Pressure Point
by The Flame and Hawk's Eye
Summary: Edward Elric cannot stomach the guilt. Feeling responsible for the abduction of Riza Hawkeye, he vows to do whatever it takes to help Roy Mustang pick up the pieces. As he gets further into the case, Edward too finds that those he cherishes most, his pressure points, are targeted. Will they be able to find those responsible, or pay the ultimate price? Royai, Parental!RoyEd,EdWin
1. Eyes of Wrath

**Important A/N**: _Hello! I'm writing this note well after the fact - this fic has been complete for well over a year now. The reason I'm writing this is because, after looking at parts of the fic, there are a few things I've found grammatically and scene-wise that I would like to change, though it would be nothing that would change the overall plot of the fic. I feel that I've grown as a writer since writing this fic and I want to rewrite some parts to reflect that. I'm going to try and post all of the edits at once, but I figured I would let you all know in case you return and see that changes have been made. It will be a while until I'm able to get around to do so though, but I figured I would make you all aware. This note will reflect those changes once they're all made. If you're reading through now, though, I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

A word of caution: This story does contain violent themes, such as torture and graphic description, as well as some profanity (hence, the T rating). Before each chapter, I will note what some of the themes are in case you are squeamish.

So, without further ado; _Pressure Point._

* * *

_**Pressure point (n): a weak point on the human body; a person's weakness that can be used against them in order to cause harm.**_

* * *

_Thump thump… thump thump…_

_Riza Hawkeye knew she was dying._

_Thump thump… thump thump…_

_For the past hour she could feel her pulse becoming weaker, the time between beats becoming increasingly drawn out. The only thing binding her to this world was the agonizing pain she felt radiating throughout her entire body._

_Thump thump… thump thump…_

_She gripped the fresh wound at her side, taking a sharp breath as she did. This only caused more pain to rip through her. At that point, however, stimulating the wound was the one thing that kept her breathing. Riza had quickly discovered that the oxygen her body had once craved suddenly seemed more like a burden than a necessity. She would have stopped breathing a long time ago if she could, but her body still had an infinitesimal need for air._

_She exhaled slowly._

_Thump thump… thump… thump…_

_Her whole body trembled. She could feel the heat leaving her body, the only source of any warmth being the sticky, crimson blood that poured from her wound. It hurt. Her whole body hurt. It hurt to breath. It hurt just existing…_

_She found herself becoming increasingly irritated at her body's determination to live. Hadn't she suffered enough? Why was her body subjecting itself to more pain by continuing to function? Riza had accepted that there was no one coming to find her. There would be no rescue. Any and all hope of one had died as the weeks and months dragged on. She wondered if the military had abandoned its efforts in finding her, if there were any to begin with. Quickly shoving that thought aside, she decided that, at least at one point, there had been an effort. They- or rather, he- had probably turned the entire Ishvalan town they were stationed at upside-down in his efforts. Roy Mustang never gave up on anyone._

_Thump… thump…_

_The thought of her superior officer made Riza's heart ache. She hoped that he wouldn't grieve. He didn't have time to weep over her. He needed to complete his goal of restoring Ishval and bringing peace. He had to keep his eyes fixated on his dream of becoming the Fuhrer._

_Riza felt hot tears stinging her eyes. She hated herself. She hated that she couldn't be there any longer to protect him. Hated that she wouldn't be there to see him accomplish his dream. And most importantly, Riza hated that she would never see him or hear his voice again._

_She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks. Taking a quick, ragged breath, she allowed her muscles to relax. It suddenly felt as if a heavy weight were placed on her chest. The once agonizing pain that radiated throughout her had become dull._

_Riza knew her time was up._

_Exhaling, she succumbed to the darkness._

_Thump…_

* * *

_Edward Elric sat motionlessly, eyes fixed on the weapon in his lap. _Funny_, he thought to himself, _it seems so harmless now…_ However, he knew the devastating consequences once the trigger has been pulled. Why had they given it to him in the first place? They knew his thoughts about guns. Did they honestly expect him to pull the trigger? Even though he had lost his alchemical abilities, he was still able to hold his own in a fight._

_Unless…_

_He slowly raised his eyes to look at the man sitting in front of him. Even though the desert caravan rattled along as they drove, Roy Mustang seemed to remain still, unswaying. As if he was made of stone. His elbows were firmly planted on his knees, fingers woven together. The Brigadier General had his forehead rested upon them, lost in thought. Raven-colored hair cast shadows on his face, hiding his eyes._

_Had he been able to peer into those eyes, Edward knew what he would see. Exhaustion. Resentment. Wrath… For the past three long, grueling months, he had watched that rage slowly build up and spill over into the superior officer's eyes. The transformation was terrifying to watch._

__The boy turned his gaze downward and shuddered. His eyes once again were fixated on the gun. _Unless… he's not looking for a fight.___

_He had seen what Mustang was capable of on the Promised Day. Seen what he was able to do with his powerful flame alchemy. But they… she… had been there to talk him down. To guide him back to the correct path once more. Now that she was gone, there wasn't a force strong enough to oppose or even stop him._

_Edward clenched his jaw and tightened his fists_. _No… this was the best lead they've had. This had to be it… This had to guide them to her!_

__He slowly relaxed his hands and tried to breathe. His stomach knotted up as a wave of dread washed over him. _If it hadn't been for me, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. If I had just followed those stupid, simple orders, then maybe-___

_"Elric!"_

__His eyes immediately snapped upward, caught off-guard by the sudden interruption of his thoughts. His eyes were met with those he had grown to fear – eyes filled with despair and rage. After only a few moments, the blonde lowered his gaze then slowly peered up submissively. _How long has he been calling my name?___

_"Are you listening," the Flame Alchemist snarled, narrowing his eyes at the young boy._

_Edward slowly nodded._

_"Good. Because I will _not_ be repeating myself." Before he went on, Roy Mustang turned his gaze, meeting the eyes of each person in their company. Besides the usual Mustang team members, three additional men had accompanied them. Edward noticed that his eyes simply slid over them, barely acknowledging them. Finally, his eyes again found themselves on the young former alchemist. "This mission is a simple one. We are to search for and rescue one Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye._

_"Should you come across anyone you may think may be involved; you are not to kill them. We need them alive for further interrogation and possible motive." His eyes again scanned their faces. "I will lead. Should we need to split up, you are to travel in pairs. No one, and I mean _no one, _will be allowed to search on their own." Again, his glare landed on Edward, dark eyes boring into his golden ones. "Are we understood?"_

_"Yes, sir," the group of men cried out in unison._

_Tearing his piercing stare away from Edward, Mustang turned to the front of the vehicle. "Fuery," he barked. "How much further?"_

_The younger, black-haired man squeaked and quickly adjusted his glasses. "According to the map, sir, we are approximately three kilometers from the edge of Turlorn."_

_Edward furrowed his brow. He had heard of the small Ishvalan town before. After the military invaded and decimated it and its citizens, they had temporarily set up an encampment there. However, once the military had advanced further into Ishvalan land, they essentially abandoned the small town, going as far, it would appear, to completely remove its existence from any and all maps. And that, Edward knew, was the reason why it had taken them nearly twelve weeks to get there._

_"Hey, Boss; look alive. We're just about there." Edward glanced up to see that first Lieutenant Havoc, who was sandwiched in the front seat between Second Lieutenant Falman and First Sergeant Fuery, had turned around and was watching his superior intently, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips._

__Squinting past the blonde officer, Edward could just barely make out a set of ruins outlined by the setting orange sun. _So that's Turlorn…_ He could see why the military had forgotten about this particular town. From what he could see, it now only consisted of one, large building with a couple scattered around it. _Shouldn't be too hard to navigate.___

_Again, Edward was jolted out of his thoughts when he was launched forward and out of his seat. The vehicle had come to a sudden and complete stop behind a large hill of sand. He looked up, realizing that he had fallen into the lap of Brigadier General Mustang. Scrambling, he threw himself off of his superior's lap and onto the floor as the group of men milled around him and out of the vehicle. After a few moments, only those two remained. Edward quickly cast his gaze downward, his face burning red with embarrassment._

_Normally, Mustang would take the opportunity to shoot a snarky comment toward the boy, which Edward would then counter with an insult about the General's intelligence or ego. For a split second, Edward hoped that somewhere, deep down, the Mustang that he loved to hate and hated to love was still there. Instead, to Edward's crushing disappointment, the superior officer only stood and shoved his way past the former alchemist. Dazed and surprisingly hurt, Edward quickly grabbed his gun and pocketed it, clambered to his feet, and jumped out of the vehicle, finding himself next to Lieutenant Havoc._

_The blonde lieutenant turned and flashed a small, but sincere, smile down at the boy. "Ready, Chief?"_

_Edward forced a smile. "Yeah…" he replied as he cast his gaze toward Mustang._

_Before the Flame Alchemist could open his mouth to address them, he was interrupted by a gasp that originated above and behind him. Edward craned his head back to see the silhouette of a person atop the sandy hill they had positioned themselves behind. "Hey!" Before he realized what he was doing, Edward pushed past the other officers and raced up the dune toward the figure. Startled by the boy's sudden actions, the dark figure bolted down the other side. As Edward reached the top, he heard a loud bang, stopping him dead in his tracks._

_He looked down the sand dune, eyes slowly widening with horror. The figure he was chasing was lying motionless on his back, blood spilling out from a self-inflicted wound to the head. Edward tried to move his legs, but found that he couldn't. "Damn it," he cried out. _Move… move!_ He couldn't do it; his emotions and body had betrayed him._

_He felt a sudden rush of air as Mustang and two additional soldiers sprinted past him. Edward could only watch as Mustang kneeled next to the fallen man, pressing his fingers to his neck. Edward could tell by his eyes, though, that Mustang already knew he was dead. He watched as Mustang clenched his hand into a fist and punched the ground, crying out in anger._

_"Damn…" Edward turned at the sudden voice, realizing that Lieutenant Breda was standing next to him. The heavyset man scowled as the remaining men dashed past them._

_Edward looked away, scrunching his face in disgust. "We were supposed to bring them back alive, right?"_

_"Not only that," Breda began, "but now I doubt we'll find any of 'em."_

_"Why's that?" Edward again turned his focus to Mustang. The Flame Alchemist was still on his knees, fist firmly planted in the sand. His raven-black hair shielding his eyes from view. The very sight of the General in that state of mind caused Edward's stomach to lurch._

_"He shot himself so we couldn't get any information out of 'im. That gunshot signaled to the others that we're here." Breda glared as Mustang got to his feet and began racing toward the largest, central building. "We'd better find something," he murmured as he made his way past Edward and down the steep, sandy dune._

_Edward gulped, trying desperately to calm his feelings of dread before dashing after them._

_The small platoon quickly reorganized themselves outside the largest building: the former military command center. After waiting a few additional moments for everyone to collect themselves, Mustang began to speak. "After what we've just witnessed, you know that they could very well be long gone. However," he gazed at each and every one of them, "do not let your guard down and remain with your partner. Unless you come across something, you are to report back here in exactly one hour. If you happen to find something, you are to light the flare issued to each of you."_

_Edward shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes cast downward, again feeling the General's cold stare. He would probably want to watch him, tote him along to make sure he didn't mess up again. He hated being babysat by the older man…_

_Instead, much to the former alchemist's surprise, Mustang turned to the other blonde-haired member of their small caravan. "Havoc, you're with me."_

_"Right, boss." The Lieutenant obediently moved and stood at his superior's side._

_Turning to the rest of the team, Mustang barked, "Everyone else, pair up and _move_," turning the end of the sentence into a command. The soldiers frantically divided into pairs before heading off in separate directions._

_"C'mon kid, you're with me," Lieutenant Breda brushed past Edward, making his way toward the eastern side of the command center. Edward obeyed, falling into step next to the soldier._

_As they reached the door, Edward cast one last look over his shoulder. He watched as Mustang and Havoc disappeared around the corner of the building. After watching the spot for a few more moments, Edward turned away and shoved his hands in his back into pockets, feeling the grip of the gun._

* * *

_Once they were inside, Edward realized just how right Breda had been. They had walked into the building's massive dining hall, which, Edward noted, was littered with trash, shell-casings, and overturned chairs. It appeared as if whoever had been there had just left. Lanterns and torches lined the walls, casting large, ominous shadows across the room. The walls themselves were chipped and cracked, having lost their last layer of paint years ago. Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning slightly, Edward realized that it was a large, red stain splattered across the wall. He squinted. "Is that…"_

_Edward took a step forward, only to hear a loud _crunch._ Both he and Breda jumped at the sound. Raising his foot, Edward revealed a crumbled up aluminum can._

_"Keep your eyes peeled for a set of stairs," Breda noted, recovering from the sound. "Since this command center was erected in Ishval during the war, I bet there's a sub-level." The soldier kicked some of the litter aside and began making his way down the closest hallway._

_Edward knew exactly what for. During the Ishvalan Extermination Campaign, thousands upon thousands of Ishvalan citizens were murdered, arrested, or experimented on. Once he caught up with the Lieutenant, he narrowed his golden eyes, "They needed a place to keep their prisoners, right?"_

_"Yeah…" Breda trailed off, quickening his pace._

__The pair turned another corner, finding themselves at the top of a narrow, winding staircase. "Bingo…" Breda muttered. Their noses crinkled at the smell of the cool, musty air that leaked from it. _Finally…___

_Without wasting any time, Edward suddenly took off down the stairs, much to the dismay of his partner. He heard a cry from behind him, but he didn't slow down. They had found it, so why pause and admire it?_

__Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Edward began to sprint faster. After running a few meters, he caught glimpses of small, barred rooms to either side of him. His eyes scanned them as he raced past. All of them were empty, or, at least, devoid of what they were looking for. He saw glimpses of aged, cracking skeletal remains in some of them. He felt nauseated at the very thought of the war. _Probably the remains of Ishvalans they left here to die and rot after this place was abandoned.___

_His thoughts were interrupted for the third time that evening when he skidded to a stop in front of a cement wall. He turned his head back and forth frantically, until he realized that the hall continued to his right. This hallway, however, contained only a singular lantern that hung loosely next to a fortified, steel door. He raced over to it and cursed. The door was locked with an enormous, steel padlock. Looking around, Edward couldn't find a key, brick, or stone he could use. Without a second thought, he ripped the boot of his automail leg off and began to smash his heel into it. His joints moaned and creaked under the strain, but he didn't care._

_Finally the lock gave. Edward ripped it off and pulled on the door. It was surprisingly heavy, but that didn't stop him from flinging it open. A small amount of light from the lantern behind him rushed into and flooded the unbearably small area._

_His heart stopped._

_There, curled up in front of him, was Riza Hawkeye._


	2. Crimson

**Warning: Graphic content in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised.**

**Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were true, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters. However, I do own any OCs created.**

**Now, back to Chapter 2: **_**Crimson.**_

* * *

Only the sound of boots pounding on the uneven cobblestone floors could be heard as two uniformed men navigated the decaying ruins of the former military command center. Every attempt by the blond at breaking the silence between the two had been in vain. In a last ditch effort, Havoc removed the unlit cigarette from his mouth and cleared his throat. "Hey, boss, mind if I ask you something?"

He waited. With each passing second, the blond grew anxious, desperately wanting a reply. He was about to give up on trying when he heard a small sigh from his superior, whom was four steps ahead of him.

"What is it," the black-haired alchemist asked sharply.

"Well, uh…" Havoc began, trying to find the right words. "Uh… the guys and I were wondering… uhmm..." He reached up and behind his head with his free hand to massage an imaginary kink in his neck, casting his eyes downward. "We were wondering why…"

Havoc jumped as Roy Mustang whirled around to face him, his midnight eyes narrowed with annoyance. "Just spit it out, Havoc."

Gulping nervously, Havoc managed to muster up the courage he needed to continue. "We were just wondering… Why are you being so hard on the chief?"

"We don't have time for this, Havoc," Mustang snapped as he began to turn away.

Havoc walked forward, closing the distance between them. He reached up and caught his superior's shoulder. "Look, sir, sometimes I think you forget that he's still just a kid. He's-"

"He is just a kid… a kid that can't follow some simple fucking orders," Mustang snapped, shrugging Havoc's hand off his shoulder. He turned and began walking back down the long, narrow hallway, leaving the blond lieutenant standing alone, utterly defeated.

"Sir, please-" He was interrupted by the sound of boots pounding on the floor behind them. The two men spun around and raised their guns, pointing them into the darkness. The footsteps then slowed to a quick jog. Their guns remained raised until a large, heavyset form emerged from the blackness. As he stepped forward, Mustang and Havoc lowered their weapons, eyeing the man with concern.

Lieutenant Breda stopped in front of them, his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. Havoc rushed forward and patted the man's back, helping him regain his composure. Finally managing to take a deep breath, Breda stammered, "Ed-Edward… h-he… !"

Mustang strode forward and crouched in front of his wheezing subordinate, his face inches from the lieutenant's. "Where is he?" he demanded, his voice surprisingly sprinkled with concern.

Breda slowly raised his head. "H-he… he took off! D-downs-stairs!"

"What sector?"

"We were… were in the eastern-"

Before Breda finished, the Brigadier General had already pushed past the two men, making his way toward the eastern part of the abandoned headquarters.

Havoc and a still-wheezing Breda desperately jogged after their superior, trying to match his pace. The raven-haired alchemist holstered his gun and pulled his ignition gloves from his pocket. As he slipped them on, the two officers heard him mutter, "Simple. Fucking. Orders..."

* * *

Moments after he had thrust open the steel door; Edward Elric was hit with the putrid scents of decay, iron, and mildew. His eyes watered and burned from the sudden sensory overload. He coughed and gagged, wiping the water from his eyes.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked down, realizing what he had just stumbled upon. Edward's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground. Despite the blurred vision caused by his stinging eyes, Edward refused to take his eyes off of her. _Am I… too late…?_

She was lying motionlessly on her right side, her back facing him. Riza's right arm was wrapped around herself, feebly grasping a fresh, seeping wound that had been inflicted on her left side. Crimson blood dripped from her tattered military jacket, forming a dark red puddle beneath her. Aside from the constant _drip_ he could hear from the small droplets making contact with the small pool of blood, Edward could not hear or see any movement. No signs of life.

Nothing.

Still, he reached forward, right hand trembling. He was terrified. Terrified that his hand would be met with the cold, stiff sensation of death. Terrified that his golden eyes would inevitably lock with lifeless mahogany ones. Terrified knowing that Mustang's heart would shatter…

His hand now hovered just centimeters above her shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped. Something out of the corner of his eye glistened, catching his attention. His eyes darted over to it. A small, barbed metal pole was protruding from the ground and leaning against her. Golden eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the random, misplaced object. He leaned closer, eyes running down the length of it.

His eyes widened as curiosity turned to horror. The long, metallic object had been driven through her arm, jutting out at her elbow, running parallel to the bone. Through the tattered fabric he could see necrotic, black flesh surrounding the area it protruded from. That gangrenous scent he had been hit with earlier was… _Decaying flesh…_

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over him. Edward retched, struggling to keep from getting sick. His stomach lurched and his vision began to blur. He needed something, anything, to support himself. He blindly brought his hand down, finding her shoulder for support. The sudden contact caused her shoulder to tense, forcing the boy to yelp and jump back in surprise.

She was alive.

He moved forward again, gently pressing his hand to her shoulder once more. Again, her body tensed upon contact.

"H-Hawkeye!" He could feel tears well up in his golden eyes. The boy waited for a reply. "Hawkeye…?" His grip on her shoulder tightened, causing her to shudder.

Without wasting another moment, the boy gently gathered her in his arms and held her tightly to his body. She was so cold. He could feel his warmth escaping his body and finding refuge in hers. This only caused him to tighten his grip.

They'd done it… They'd found her.

Blinking his tears away, he looked down at Riza, his face twisted with concern. She looked almost corpselike. The only color that existed on her pallid face came from the large, dark circles under her eyes, which were firmly shut. Her lips were parted slightly, allowing her to take rapid, shallow breaths. Her hair, more brown than blonde at this point, clung to the perspiration on her face. The lantern flickering behind them cast shadows on her, highlighting every imperfection. She was too thin, too pale. He needed to get her out of there _now._

He tried to stand, only to find that in the process of breaking the lock, he had somehow severed a connection in his automail leg. He crumpled to the ground, his leg completely useless.

He cringed as Riza audibly gasped and gritted her teeth. The fall had unexpectedly jostled her, no doubt shooting pain throughout her entire body. After apologizing profusely, the boy lifted his head and strained his ears, hoping to hear any other signs of life. When he didn't hear any, he began to panic. He needed someone… anyone…

No… he needed Roy Mustang.

Finding his voice, the boy stuttered, "M-Mustang…" Silence. He tried again, raising his voice, "Please! Is someone there?!" His cries, again, were only met with silence. He gritted his teeth as he felt hot tears stream down his cheeks. "DAMN IT! SOMEONE… MUSTANG! PLEASE… HELP!" His screams echoed throughout the cold, lifeless dungeon, reaching every corner of the structure. "Please… help us…"

* * *

Mustang, Havoc, and Breda had paused at the top of the stairs. Straining to listen, they heard it again; a small, desperate cry for help. Without a second thought, the three men rushed down the stairs, sprinting toward the direction of the cries, racing past the dozens of former prison cells. Upon reaching a concrete wall, they turned to the right and froze in their tracks.

They saw the young, blond-haired boy sitting on the floor, his back to them, cradling something in his arms.

The men slowly advanced forward, unsure of what they would find once they'd reached him.

Hearing the echoes of their footsteps, the young blond turned his head and stammered, "M-Mustang, p-please help!" Red-rimmed, glistening golden eyes watched them, silently pleading for them to come closer.

Roy Mustang stopped and felt his gaze soften. His eyes met those of the young former alchemist's. He realized that he wasn't looking into the eyes of the fearless, confident sixteen-year-old young man that had saved them all. No… He was looking into the wide, quivering, uncertain eyes of the eleven-year-old he had met in Resembool long ago. He felt a lump form in his throat._Maybe I have forgotten that he's still just a kid…_

After watching Edward for a few moments, Roy tore his eyes away from the boy's and focused on what was in his arms. He felt his heart sink. Roy could recognize that mess of long, dirty blonde hair anywhere.

After a few moments, he willed himself to move forward. Slowly kneeling next to Edward, Roy delicately took his lieutenant from the boy's arms. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, her body conforming to his. It felt so natural holding her.

Lips trembling, he managed to stutter, "L-lieutenant?"

No response.

"Riza?" He waited, secretly hoping that she would open her eyes and scowl, scolding him for being informal. When no lecture came, he tried again; this time he said it more forcefully, like an order. _She won't refuse an order…_

Still no response.

Roy began to grow desperate. He gently rocked her back and forth, this time pleading her name over and over like a broken record. After a minute of pleading, he stopped rocking her and grew silent. _Please_, he inwardly begged, _open your eyes_.

Then, as if she had read his mind, Riza slowly opened her eyes. Roy looked into them, feeling his heart pounding frantically in his chest. Her mahogany eyes seemed to pierce straight through him, her stare cold and unrecognizing. His heart skipped a beat.

"Lieutenant?" Roy desperately tried to catch her gaze, only to have her take a deep, weary breath in reply. She closed her eyes as her head lolled into his shoulder, exhaling softly as she did so. He watched her intently, hoping that she would open her eyes again. He tried to push back his feelings of dread. Her stare had unnerved him. It was as if she hadn't really seen him…

He quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head. Right now, they had to finish the task at hand: returning her home. With that rationalization firmly planted in his mind, Roy slowly stood. When the sudden change in position caused Riza to gasp, the General looked down, alarmed. He watched as she gritted her teeth in pain, keeping her eyes clenched shut.

Without his eyes leaving her, Roy shakingly murmured, "Let's go."

Breda and Havoc nodded solemnly and stepped out of the way to allow the general and his lieutenant past them. After he passed them, they turned to follow.

Noticing that the young blonde was not getting up Havoc turned back, causing the other two to stop. "Coming, Chief?"

Roy only heard Edward mumble, but he caught the words "automail" and "broken."

He watched as Havoc rushed forward and scooped up the younger blond.

Together, the five quickly made their way up the stairs and out of the crumbling, old building.

* * *

By that time, darkness had fallen and the desert wind had picked up, making it difficult to see out the front windshield of the desert vehicle. The sudden onset of the desert storm did not seem to dissuade Falman, Havoc, and Fuery as they muttered to each other, trying to make sense of the compass and map laid out in front of them.

Edward turned his attention away from the quietly bickering trio to focus on Lieutenant Breda, Mustang, and Hawkeye. Mustang was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the vehicle, Riza's head cradled in his lap. Breda had pulled out a small first aid kit and was applying pressure to the wound on Riza's left side. He noticed that the lieutenant was careful to not touch her left arm, as doing so, they'd noticed, caused her hiss in pain. The reddened gauze pads made Edward's stomach churn. He had always been fine with the sight of blood, but his memories regarding the wound were accompanied by the smells of rot and decay. The very thought forced him to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

Unable to watch anymore, Edward turned his attention toward Mustang, whom he saw raise his weary, dark eyes and look toward the front of the vehicle. "Have you called ahead," he asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Fuery replied. "We should be arriving in about five minutes."

Edward saw Mustang drop his shoulders and looked away. "Thank you," he quietly replied back.

After a few minutes of continued silence, Edward saw a light out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly, realizing that they were once again back in the Ishvalan town of Invens, the temporary headquarters of the Amestrian military. He watched as the red-eyed, tan-skinned residents of the small town milled around the vehicle, which had slowed to a crawl.

Hearing an audible, exasperated sigh, Edward turned to face the noise's source. With one of his hands freed, Mustang was impatiently drumming his fingertips on the floor, glaring anxiously outside the vehicle. Edward frowned, watching as anger again clouded the General's eyes. Edward cleared his throat. The sudden sound seemed to snap the superior officer out of it as Edward watched him glance around uneasily before looking back down at Riza.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the vehicle came to a stop in front of the town's small military clinic. They saw the doors fly open as a few nurses rush outside with a gurney. Edward watched from inside vehicle as they urged Mustang, whom had just stepped out, to relinquish his lieutenant into their care. Reluctantly, the superior officer handed her over, his face twisted in distress and slight annoyance.

After the rest of the men had filed out of the vehicle, Edward staggered over to the edge, steadying himself as he tried to jump out. Seeing the young blond's plight, Falman rushed over and gently guided Edward down to the ground. He flashed a quick glance of gratitude toward the older, gray-haired man before he had turned away. After he steadied himself, he realized that the rest of the men were already ahead of him, making their way into the building. He huffed and quickly limped after Mustang, Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman as the men trailed behind the attending nurses. They were stopped, however, when the nurses blocked them from entering the room the gurney, and their lieutenant, disappeared into.

Edward watched as Mustang stood, arms folded, as a remaining nurse tried to explain why he couldn't enter the surgical suite. The animosity radiating off of the superior officer was palpable.

As if on cue, Dr. Marcoh appeared around a corner, quickly tying a smock around his chest and waist. Before making his way into the suite, he stopped and grasped Mustang's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

Mustang turned and looked at the doctor, the irritation in his dark eyes replaced with fear and despair. The two watched each other for a moment, as if conversing telepathically.

Dr. Marcoh squeezed Roy's shoulder again before releasing his grip and allowing his hand to drop to his side. He flashed the Flame Alchemist a faint reassuring smile before disappeared through the doors to the surgical suite.

Edward and the other men collapsed onto the closest benches they could find. He looked up, expecting Mustang to do the same. Instead, he watched as the raven-haired man paced anxiously back and forth in front of them, hands behind his back, lost in a deep trance.

Edward let out a long, tired sigh and leaned back against the wall. All they could do now was wait and hope.


	3. Homebound

To say Edward Elric was tired would be an understatement. He was downright exhausted, both mentally and physically. Looking up at the clock on the wall, he groaned softly to himself. It was only 11:00p.m. They had arrived at the clinic at 8:00p.m., so only three hours had passed. To Edward, though, that time seemed like an eternity.

He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose, hoping to rub away his fatigue. _If it's 11:00 right now, then… _He did the math to himself. Fifty-three hours. He hadn't slept in over two days. Edward could almost feel the dark circles developing beneath his eyes.

Leaning back, Edward rested against the wall, allowing his entire body to relax. After a few moments, he finally felt himself beginning to doze off. Before Edward could drift off entirely, however, memories of the day's events flooded his mind.

_Gunshot. Wall. Door. Blood… so much blood. __**My fault**__… Decay. __**My fault.**__ Pale. Thin. __**My fault.**__ Yelling. Screaming! Tears. Mustang. __**Hope…**_

His eyes flew open and he buried his head in his hands. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. He definitely would not be getting any sleep tonight. Edward slowly lifted his head, dragging his fingers down his face in the process. Resting his chin on his palms, he sleepily glanced at the man in front of him. Havoc had his knees curled up to his chest, his arms crossed on top of them. He had allowed his head to nod forward, his forehead resting against his arms. A soft snore confirmed that he was, indeed, asleep.

Glancing over to his left, Edward saw that Falman was closest to him; the second Lieutenant's head leaned back against the wall. Next to him was a snoring Lieutenant Breda, whom was leaning against his tall, thin comrade. Nestled up against Breda was Master Sargent Fuery, who had fallen asleep without removing his glasses.

Finally, Edward turned his attention to Roy Mustang, who was seated on the bench to the right of Havoc. His fingers were threaded together, his chin resting on them. His midnight eyes were closed, but Edward knew better than to assume that the General was asleep. Beneath the dark circles and shadows that concealed his face, Edward could make out an expression that he could only describe as sorrow. These days, it seemed, the General had only two emotions: rage and depression. No in-between.

He furrowed his brow, thinking back to Mustang and his reaction when he lifted his lieutenant from Edward's arms. He had never seen the man look so despondent, so disheartened… And yet, despite the stress and pain the older man had endured for the past few months, Edward still hadn't seen him shed a tear, not even at that very moment.

Edward's stomach twisted in knots. He was angry with himself. Whether it was the trauma, sleep deprivation, guilt or a combination of the three, one thing was certain: he had broken down, and in front of Mustang no less. He clenched his hands, now in his lap, into fists. What right did he have? What right did he have to break down and shed tears, while Mustang did his best to keep it together; for himself, for Hawkeye, for his men, and for Edward…

"Hey-o Roy!"

Edward was jolted from his thoughts of self-loathing by the familiar voice. As he turned toward the direction the sound originated from, Edward saw Mustang cringe out of the corner of his eye. He watched as the uniformed newcomer bound over to the General.

The Flame Alchemist slowly opened his eyes and glared up at the man.

The man, unfazed by the glare (or completely oblivious to it), reached out and took Mustang's hand in his, shaking it vigorously. "Haha! Sorry about that, Roy! Didn't realize I had woken you from a deep-"

"Lieutenant Colonel Rodin…" Mustang began sharply, cutting the man off.

"Ah, right, sorry!" The soldier quickly released the General's hand and saluted him, replacing his glowing smile with his best poker face. "Lieutenant Colonel Don Rodin reporting, sir!" He clenched his squared jaw, blue eyes staring forward intently. After holding that pose for a few moments, however, his lips began to quiver. All at once, his face relaxed, and a large, broad smile spread across his lips.

The Flame Alchemist sighed and stood, his hands on his hips. "At ease, Colonel."

Rodin dropped his salute and flashed the General a toothy grin. "I apologize, sir. Still a force of habit! At western command, we are much less formal. We go by first names there." He paused and ran his fingers through his slicked back, short black hair. "I guess I'm still getting used to the formalities at Central," he flashed the General an apologetic look.

Roy thrust his hands into his pockets, trying, and ultimately failing, to hide his annoyance. "It's fine. Just please try to remember the formalities here and at Central, Colonel Rodin."

"Right," the Colonel replied, saluting again. "Anyways, let's talk business." He turned his focus toward the surgical suite they were seated outside of. "How's Riz- uh, Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

Edward watched as Mustang looked downward, murmuring, "I don't know… I haven't heard anything yet."

He saw the colonel flash Mustang a sympathetic look. "I came as soon as I heard about your plan to search Turlorn." Rodin continued, "Why didn't you call me to let me know? I could have come with you."

Roy closed his eyes, hands still shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "I was chasing a rumor." Slowly opening his dark, weary eyes again, he continued, "I figured I wouldn't waste your time."

That was a lie, and Edward knew it. They had meticulously planned the entire operation in about 24 hours. There were plenty of times when Mustang could have picked up the phone and called the colonel. Even though he wouldn't have made it in time by train, Edward figured Mustang would have at least let the man know their plans. After all, he was practically leading the investigation of the Lieutenant's disappearance. And yet, Mustang seemed defiant against the man's best efforts, oftentimes following his own leads before the Lieutenant Colonel's.

At first, Edward didn't see it. But slowly, as the weeks had dragged on and Edward saw more interactions between the two, it became painstakingly obvious: the man reminded Mustang of Brigadier General Hughes… and Mustang despised that. Physically, there was a slight resemblance; the Colonel had short, dark hair, a square jaw, and was about half a head taller than Mustang, much like Hughes. Personality-wise, the two were nearly identical. Both had amicable and cheerful personalities, as well as a deep devotion to their respective families. In fact, Edward had sometimes found himself getting caught in a barrage of stories about his wonderful son and beautiful daughter. It was bad enough having to hear someone gloat about one child, but two?

Still, Edward knew that beneath the man's jovial, playful personality, there was a serious side that was passionate about what he did. He had experienced it first-hand when the Colonel sat him down to discuss the day that Hawkeye had disappeared. Looking back at that day, Edward couldn't believe how quickly the man had changed his demeanor. Almost like the flick of a switch…

Edward was pulled from his thoughts when Rodin clapped his hand on Mustang's shoulder, much to the surprise of the General. His toothy grin had creased into a thin line, turning his carefree expression into a sober one. "Please," he heard Rodin quietly beg, "I was assigned to help you for this sole purpose. I _want _to help you. But you have to give me _something._"

Mustang let out a long-winded sigh. Edward knew that was Mustang's way of giving in, of letting his walls down.

Sensing the General's silent acceptance, the Colonel continued, "So, tell me. What did you find?"

The general drew in a deep breath, and then continued, "Their hideaway was in the old Amestrian command center. My men and I were able to comb the premises in approximately 30 minutes."

The Colonel watched him, waiting for the General to go on. When he didn't, Rodin continued, "Was there anyone else there?"

Edward say Mustang hesitate. After a few moments, the General replied, "We only encountered one other individual. Before we could contain him, however, he shot himself." Edward looked down at his palms, feeling disgusted. _The coward…_

"Did you leave him behind?"

The question surprised both Edward and Mustang, as they both looked up at the man. Of course they left him behind. As far as they were concerned, the unidentified man was a lunatic, a coward, a disgraceful bast-

Colonel groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Sir, this could slow our investigation. Have you seen the storm that picked up outside?"

Edward knew where this conversation was going. He knew that they had made multiple mistakes. One of which was leaving the evidence behind, completely exposed to the elements.

"It will only be a matter of hours before the thing is completely covered," the colonel continued, trying to hide his slight agitation. "Or worse, some desert animals might get to it before we do."

Mustang opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word he was interrupted by the door to the surgical suite opening slowly. The trio watched as Dr. Marcoh emerged, donning a white lab coat instead of the smock he had previously been wearing. After closing the door behind him, the doctor beckoned Mustang forward silently, his face impassive and controlled.

After moving a few steps toward the doctor, Mustang turned and looked over his shoulder. His eyes grazed Edward's, before fixing themselves on someone behind the boy. "Falman," he murmured. Edward heard the man behind him stir. "Please give the Colonel our full report." Without uttering another word, Mustang followed the doctor. Edward watched as they turned a corner and disappeared.

* * *

As he followed behind the doctor, Roy Mustang felt himself becoming numb. His heart thumped loudly in his throat. When he tried to utter a few words of greeting to the doctor, he found he couldn't. Instead, his entire body trembled as he walked, his mind fearing the worst.

Dr. Marcoh motioned toward a room near the end of the hallway directly to Roy's right. Again, Roy obeyed, walking into the room and seating himself in a chair across from an old, worn oak desk. Moments after Roy sat down, Dr. Marcoh followed him in and shut the door behind him. He slowly walked around the old desk and collapsed in the peeling, leather chair positioned behind it.

The two watched each other for, what Roy would describe, an eternity. Finally, he found the courage to speak. His voice, though, only came out as a small whisper as he bowed his head slightly, "Will she be okay?"

After a few moments of silence, Roy looked up at the doctor, studying the older man's face. He seemed to have aged by five years since Roy had seen him last. Dark bags had formed under the man's small, black eyes. The corners of his lips were turned downward in a perpetual frown. Roy stared harder, but found that he could not read the man's face. Frustrated by the lack of response, he leaned back and ran his fingers through his raven-black hair, glaring at Dr. Marcoh. His patience was wearing thin. What wasn't the doctor telling him? After everything they had been through after the Promised Day, the doctor still didn't have the courage to say something to his face?

As if he had read his mind, the doctor sighed and looked into Roy's eyes. "The healing process is going to take some time," he started slowly. "She's awake now, but-"

In one swift movement, Roy leapt up from his chair, knocking it to the floor, and slammed his hands down on the desk. The doctor flinched. "She's awake and you didn't tell me this," Roy growled, his face inches from Marcoh's. "How long," he demanded.

"About an hour-"

"An hour?!" Roy could feel what was left of his composure slipping. "What aren't you telling me?" He was practically yelling now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the office door crack open. A nurse cautiously poked her head inside, nervously looking at Roy and Marcoh. The doctor raised his hand, dismissing her. After she had fled and he heard the door click shut, Roy continued his verbal assault. "I trusted you with my eyes! The very least you can do is trust me with your information. I am her commanding officer; I have every right to know-" His tirade stopped when Marcoh slammed his hands down on the desk and stood to face the enraged military officer.

"Calm yourself, Mustang," Marcoh snarled, "and let me finish."

After watching the doctor for a few seconds, the raven-haired man begrudgingly picked up his chair and returned to his seat.

The doctor sat back in his chair and continued, "She is awake, _but_ is deeply sedated." He paused, expecting Roy to intervene. When he wasn't interrupted, Dr. Marcoh continued, "I have called ahead to arrange for an earlier train to Central." He raised his hand as Roy opened his mouth to speak, silencing the alchemist. "As you know, there is only so much I can do here with aged equipment and few staff members. The doctors in Central are much better equip to handle advanced procedures."

"What do you mean?" The Flame Alchemist asked, his expression pained.

"Roy," the doctor began, his voice low and comforting, "This is going to be hard, but I'm asking you to please listen to me."

* * *

Edward rolled his eyes and glared. For the past fifteen minutes, the boy had watched Jean Havoc "subtly" observe the pairs of nurses that walked by. _That perv… Is that really what he's thinking about at a time like this?_

He racked his brain, trying to remember if the second Lieutenant was dating anyone. _Oh, that's right! Lieutenant Catalina. _He decided that, when the next pair walked by, he would ask the Lieutenant how his relationship was going. When he heard a pair of footsteps echoing down the hallway, Edward turned his head slightly to see who was approaching. To his disappointment, a pair of men, most likely a doctor and male nurse rounded the corner. However, to his surprise he saw Havoc's eyes follow them just as intently as if they were a pair of women. _What?_

As soon as the pair passed them, Havoc leaned forward, eyeing Lieutenant Breda. "You see that?" he asked.

"Yeah," the heavyset man replied, leaning back against the wall. "That's the seventh pair we've seen in the past fifteen minutes."

"What are you guys talking about?" Fuery piped up, watching the two men curiously.

"Have you noticed anyone walking around solo?" Upon seeing the young black-haired man shake his head, Breda continued. "Apparently a nurse disappeared in the middle of her shift a few days ago. No one's seen her since." They watched as another pair, this time a man and woman, walked past them. "Security's been tight since then. Looks like they're even taking precautions inside the clinic walls."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "She… disappeared? Just like that?"

The second Lieutenant nodded. "Yeah. And I read in the paper that the storeroom was broken into as well. Bunch of IV lines, bags, and medications were taken too."

"Do you think she took them?" Fuery asked.

Breda shrugged. "I dunno. To be honest, I haven't been following it that much. It's a civilian clinic, so the local police force is –" He stopped upon hearing one set of uneven footsteps approaching them.

The four of them watched as General Mustang staggered around the corner, his face as white as a sheet. Edward watched as the three men rose and rushed over to him. The General walked past them, as if oblivious to their existence. After stumbling a few more steps, he paused, reaching out to the wall for support. A few moments passed before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "We are leaving for Central at exactly 0100 hours. Head back to the dorms, grab your belongings, and meet at the train station at 0030 hours."

Sensing the urgency in their superior's voice, the men chose not to question him. They saluted and murmured a quiet "Yes, sir" in unison. The three men quickly and purposefully filed out of the clinic, leaving only Mustang and Edward behind.

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but discovered that he couldn't find the words. Instead, he sensed that was a mutual understanding hanging in the air: _Don't ask, don't tell. Not now._ So, rather than speaking, Edward strode forward, his automail leg groaning in protest, stopping next to the General. His golden eyes caught fatigued, onyx ones.

Mustang took a deep breath in, and then exhaled, allowing him the opportunity to compose himself. His expression hardened and he turned his gaze forward. "Let's go."

Edward nodded and with that, the two made their way out the doors of the clinic and into the cold desert night.


	4. Separated

Edward was the first to finish packing his belongings and the first to make it down to the dorm's reception area. Dropping his suitcase next to one of the sofas, he fell back into the plush cushions and propped his feet up on a coffee table. The dimmed lights and soft cushions made for ideal sleeping conditions. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy. Maybe he could take a quick ten minute nap. The men would wake him once they finished packing… Crossing his arms behind his head, he closed his eyes and scooted further down into the sofa's cushions. _Just… five minutes…_

"Major Elric?"

Startled, Edward's eyes flew open, his hand clutching his chest. His thoughts immediately turned to the time. What time was it? He frantically shook his head back and forth until he found the clock on the wall. 11:54p.m. Still plenty of time…

Blinking away the drowsiness, he glared up at the one that disrupted him. The man nervously saluted before continuing, "Sir, I have a message for you from a Miss Winry Rockbell. She requests that you call her at your earliest convenience."

_Crap. _With the day's events, he had completely forgotten to call the Rockbell residence. Edward had made an effort to try and call every day, even if it was only for a few minutes. It was comforting hearing from them, especially Alphonse, whom was recovering very quickly. Just last week, Al told him that he was able to slowly get around without his cane.

Edward thanked the man and sat upright. He gingerly guided his automail leg to the floor then stood, bearing most of his weight on his right leg. Limping over to the nearest phone, Edward slowly punched the Rockbell residence's phone number into the keypad. It rang once before he heard a soft _click_, signaling that the receiver had been picked up.

"_Hello?"_ Upon hearing Winry's voice, he felt his heart flutter and his cheeks redden. Normally it was Al who answered the phone. He must be sleeping… Suddenly, his throat felt dry. Any words he had in reply to her simple 'hello' had vanished from his mind. Did he… actually miss Winry?

"_Hello?" _He could hear the worry in her voice. _"Ed…?"_

Edward gulped, finding just enough saliva to saturate his dry throat. "Yeah. Who else would it be, Gearhead?"

When no retort came, he found that _he_ was the one that was concerned. "Winry? Hello?"

Suddenly, her voice exploded in his ear. Yelping in surprise, he held the receiver at arm's length. Even with the phone so far from his ear, he could still make out everything she was shouting._"Edward Elric! Do you know how worried we've been?! First, you tell us that you're heading off into the desert. Then, when I call because we haven't heard from you, they tell me that you were at the hospital!"_ He slowly brought the receiver back to his ear, sensing the end of her tirade. His suspicion was confirmed when she quietly asked, _"Are you okay?"_

He tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. She was that concerned about him? He felt awful making them worry like that. "Yeah…" He finally responded. "My automail's a bit beaten up, but I'm okay…" Edward waited, wondering if she would berate him for using the words 'automail' and 'beaten up' in the same sentence.

Instead, she disregarded his comment entirely. _"Does that mean…_ _Did you…?"_

He knew what her question was without having to finish it. She asked every time they finished with their 'hello's' and 'how are you's'. And every time, he would reply with the same small, defeated 'no'. This time, however, his answer would be different. This time, he wouldn't have to hear her quiet, disappointed 'oh, okay'.

"Yeah," he murmured softly.

It seemed to take her a moment to process the information, mostly, he guessed, because she was expecting the same answer he always gave her. When she spoke, her voice came out in a hushed tone, _"Is she… Will she…?"_ He could hear her struggling to find the right word. _Dead? Alive? Okay? Hurt?_

Instead of letting her finish the question, he answered, "I don't know. We're getting on a train in about an hour to head to Central's military hospital." Before he could tell her more, he saw Breda and Havoc emerge from the stairwell. When their eyes met his, he slowly nodded; he was ready to go.

"Hey Winry?"

"_Yeah?"_

"I have to go. But I promise to call when I get to Central, okay?"

He didn't hear what she said in reply; the two second Lieutenants were quietly motioning for him to hurry up out of the corner of his eye. "I'll talk to you later, Winry. Love you. Bye." He hung up the receiver and turned to find two sets of eyes watching him curiously.

"What?" he shot them a dirty look.

"Who were you just talking to?" Havoc leaned forward with his hands on his hips and smirked.

"Winry…" Edward began. "Why?"

"Oh nothing," the taller blond replied, still grinning. Turning to Lieutenant Breda, Havoc held out his hand and said, "Pay up."

Muttering under his breath, the other Lieutenant dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out a 1000 cenz note. Edward watched as the heavyset man begrudgingly slapped it into his comrade's outstretched hand..

Rolling his eyes, Edward turned away from the pair. _What are they- _Suddenly, the end of his conversation with Winry replayed in his mind. _"I'll talk to you later, Winry. Love you. Bye… Love you. Bye. __**Love. You.**__"_ In an instant, it felt like the room's temperature increased by one thousand degrees. His face was burning; he could feel sweat drops forming on his brow.

He twirled around and pointed an accusatory finger at the two men. "W-what were you betting on?" The men only stared back, eyebrows raised and grins on their faces. "I-it's not like that." They weren't buying it. "You heard that out of context!" Still not buying it. "It slipped! I-I don't! She-I-We-" He stopped when saw the two men look beyond him and salute, their expressions serious.

"Are you done, Fullmetal?"

Edward whirled around and found himself face-to-face with an extremely irked General Mustang. Face still burning red, the boy slowly nodded and meekly replied, "Yeah."

The Flame Alchemist narrowed his onyx eyes at the boy, before turning away. When he had made his way to the door, he turned his head slightly and said, "Let's go." The two men muttered a quick reply before following after their superior, their bags in hand.

Edward, face still burning and heart still pounding in his chest, quickly moved over to the sofa and threw his bag over his shoulder. As he made his way out the door, Sargent Fuery, balancing an overexcited Black Hayate and duffel bag in his arms, fell in step beside the limping boy. Edward reached over and grabbed the duffel bag by its straps, throwing it over his shoulder along with his bag. The Sargent flashed him an appreciative smile. The two then quickened their pace, catching up with the three men in front of them. Together, the group hastily made their way toward the train station.

* * *

Roy Mustang sat silently as he watched a multitude of dark shapes rush past the train windows. Though it was nearly pitch black outside the train car, he had noticed the sandy terrain slowly give way to a lusher, green landscape. He knew that with every tree, hill, and house the train passed, they were getting incrementally closer to their destination.

He pulled himself out of his trance to look toward the back of the train car. Roy could see Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda sitting across from each other, hunched over a deck of cards. Kain Fuery was seated next to Havoc, absentmindedly petting a sleeping Black Hayate. Seated a few rows up was Edward Elric, his chin resting on his elbow, which was propped on the windowsill. His mind, much like Mustang's, was somewhere else entirely. The only person missing was Vato Falman, who had agreed to remain behind in order to assist Lieutenant Colonel Rodin in his investigation of Turlorn. They planned on setting out around 9:00a.m., around the time the train was expected to arrive in Central.

He knew that as soon as they arrive in Central, Riza would be whisked away and they would be separated again. For the moment, however, he took comfort knowing that he was as close to her as physically possible. The two cars directly behind him had been specifically set up to transport four other ill or injured patients in addition to Riza. Based on Dr. Marcoh's description of the setup, her bed was directly behind the wall he was seated in front of.

Roy desperately wanted to be there next to her, holding her hand, telling her that everything would be okay. Deep in his heart, however, he knew that things wouldn't be okay. When, not _if_, she pulled through, her life would be different. But he vowed to himself that he would be there every step of the way.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the window, allowing himself to sway along with the train. Relaxing his entire being, Roy let his mind wander back to his conversation with Dr. Marcoh.

* * *

"_Roy… This is going to be hard, but I'm asking you to please listen to me."_

_He swallowed hard and braced himself. He was as ready as he would ever be._

_Seeing the General's silent resolve, Dr. Marcoh continued, "I'm going to be honest with you, General Mustang; her condition is deplorable. Three broken ribs, signs of mild head trauma, severe malnourishment, a deep puncture wound to her left side, and a massive infection in her left forearm." The doctor paused and looked into Roy's eyes, making sure that the raven-haired man was processing everything._

_Roy could only look helplessly back at the older man as he waited for him to continue._

"_My biggest concern right now is the infection. When I was examining her, I found small puncture wounds running up her right forearm and a piece of cloth wrapped tightly around her arm, just above her left elbow. It looks as if someone beat us to the infection by trying to curb it, most likely with intravenous antibiotics and a makeshift tourniquet. That being said, while those efforts helped to slow its progression, they certainly did not stop it." Dr. Marcoh paused._

"_What…what is our next step?" Roy asked, breaking the silence; his eyes begging, __**pleading**__ for an answer._

"_I've started her on a course of our strongest antibiotics and fever reducers, but even with those I-I," his voice broke and he looked down at his hands, which were neatly folded on the desk in front of him. "I… can't save her forearm."_

_The news hit Roy like a locomotive, knocking the wind completely out of him. He stared forward and down, no longer able to register what the doctor was saying. A lump formed in his throat, cutting off his airway. He clutched his chest, choking on his breath. He couldn't breathe… he couldn't breathe!_

_Feeling a hand on his shoulder, the Flame Alchemist turned. Through his tunnel vision, he could see Dr. Marcoh crouched down next to him, concern painted across his face. He was trying to speak to him, but all Roy could hear was a loud ringing in his ears. He began to violently cough, allowing precious air to fill his lungs. As his vision began to clear, the ringing slowly subsided and he could hear Marcoh calling out his name. Still clutching his chest, he whimpered, "Y-your alchemy-"_

"_You know just as well as I do, Mustang; even with how advanced medical alchemy is becoming, we cannot revive dead tissue."_

_Roy grabbed the lapels of Marcoh's lab jacket, pulling the doctor closer. Wide, anguished eyes stared into the doctor's. "Please…" he quietly begged, "let me see her."_

_Dr. Marcoh gently took Mustang's hands and slowly peeled them off his jacket, his eyes never leaving the General's. With Mustang's hands still wrapped in his own, he quietly said, "I cannot allow that. She's in a very fragile state right now. I need as much time as I can to prepare her and our other patients for travel." With that, he released Mustang's hands and stood. Standing at the door with one hand on the doorknob, Dr. Marcoh murmured, "Please take a moment, General. I will meet you at the station in about an hour." And just like that, he was gone, leaving a shocked and devastated Mustang in his wake._

* * *

Roy slowly opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright light. He shut his eyes tightly, and then slowly reopened them, allowing them to readjust themselves. The sun was peeking out from behind the lush, green hills that darted past the window as if it was greeting him. Roy rubbed his aching eyes and glanced down at his watch. It was 8:45a.m. They would be arriving in Central soon.

He suddenly felt nauseous. Soon they would be separated and he would be left again, waiting, wondering, worrying… He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The constant sway of the train wasn't helping. He needed to think about something else. Something to numb his aching heart.

Roy slowly opened his eyes and looked toward the back of the train. Breda, Havoc, and Fuery had disbanded and found separate benches to sleep on. He felt a small smile creep across his lips, a rarity in recent times. He was grateful having them there. Their presence helped to put him at ease.

After watching them for a few moments, he turned his attention to his young subordinate. He found Edward in the same position in the same spot, his eyes still fixed on the ever-changing landscape outside the train car. Roy frowned. Had he been awake this entire time? From the looks of it, he had: Roy silently noted the dark circles that had formed under the boy's tired golden eyes.

He felt something tug at his heartstrings. Thinking back, he couldn't remember ever telling the boy that he truly did appreciate him being there. In fact, he could hardly remember even carrying on a long conversation with him within the past few months. In the chaos that unfolded shortly after Edward arrived in Ishval, Roy hadn't stopped to think about what the boy had sacrificed for him.

Edward postponed his comfortable, deserved life in Resembool with his brother in order to help him. Every order, command, or request that had been given to him had been fulfilled without question or complaint. The boy was overworked; Roy could see that now. He even noticed that Edward had been carrying himself differently. His usual broad shouldered, chin-held-high strut he paraded around with was replaced with a cautious, unassuming slouch. It was as if the boy was carrying an immense weight on his shoulders. Then there were Edward's eyes… Beneath the bags and exhaustion, Roy could see a mixture of complex emotions every time the boy looked at him. But when Roy would return that look, he would feel something deep within him festering, desperately trying to rear its ugly head…

Feeling a light pressure on his shoulder, Roy gasped in surprise and looked up to see Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Edward standing in a semi-circle in front of him. It took him a moment to realize that the train had stopped and that they had arrived at Central Station.

When he stood, Dr. Marcoh emerged from behind the group. "General, please follow me."

Roy nodded and began to follow. As he passed them, he looked each subordinate in the eye. When he got to Edward, he held the boy's gaze for a moment longer. Determined, weary eyes returned his look.

Following Marcoh out of the train car and into the bustling station, Roy cast one last glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened in awe when he saw the three men and Edward lined up outside the train car, their right hands raised in a silent salute.

* * *

Dr. Marcoh wordlessly led the General to a waiting ambulance and opened the back door, inviting him inside.

Roy climbed inside and stopped when he saw her.

Riza was lying on a stretcher in the middle of the vehicle, surrounded by nurses and beeping machines. Upon seeing the man enter, the nurses quickly moved away from her, taking any equipment they had with them.

He slowly advanced forward, stopping once he had made it to her side. Roy looked down at her, drinking in her features. She looked like she was simply sleeping. So peaceful…

Some of the color had returned to her thinned cheeks, but otherwise, she looked nearly the same as when they'd first found her. Small. Weak. Fragile. But to him… she was still the most beautiful woman in the world.

Kneeling down next to her, he took her right hand in both of his. Her hand tensed in response, but quickly relaxed when he wrapped his fingers around it. "Riza…" He could feel a tightness forming in his chest. No… He had to be strong. She had been strong for him for far too long. This time, it was his turn to be strong for her. He had to be.

Moving her hand toward himself, he gingerly pressed it to his chest, right above his heart. "I promise… I swear… that I will be right here for you. I-" His voice cracked. "I…"

"General." He felt a hand on his shoulder. Without peeling his eyes away from her, he heard Dr. Marcoh murmur, "We're here."

He hadn't even felt the vehicle move.

He wasn't ready. Not yet…

One of the nurses lightly took her hand from his and laid it across her abdomen. He watched helplessly as they lifted her out of the vehicle. When they made their way into the hospital he trailed behind them, deciding that he would follow them until he no longer could. Anything to ensure that he would be as close to her as possible.

Sure enough, once they reached a set of doors that read "Employees Only," the nurses politely informed him that he could no longer accompany them. As they disappeared through the swinging doors, he caught one last glimpse of blonde hair. And then, she was gone.

And he was left alone. Terrified. Separated.


	5. Lilies

Two things remained constant in that hospital waiting area as the day dragged on: Roy Mustang and Edward Elric. The youth and the rest of Mustang's team had arrived shortly after Roy did, but while the men left his side occasionally to make take a quick smoke break, grab food, or attend to Black Hayate, Roy noticed that Edward had only left once, for a span of about three minutes. When asked by Havoc where the boy went, he simply replied that he had called Alphonse, leaving the conversation at that. Roy was tempted for a moment to ask the former alchemist how his brother was, but thought better of it; neither he nor Edward were in the mood for light conversation.

His men had known him long enough to know that sometimes the best way to comfort him was to simply be there without having to speak: and that was enough. After Hughes had died, Roy remembered, the men had offered their support by remaining close and asking him questions only when necessary. Today was no different.

Roy only spoke a handful of times; once to decline a sandwich offered by Breda and a few additional times when Dr. Marcoh would come out and speak to him. The first time Mustang saw the doctor, he was surprised that he was not scrubbed in for surgery. Dr. Marcoh had quickly reassured him, telling him that he was out of practice when it came to surgery, but that Riza was in the "more than capable hands" of a Dr. Matthew Tennant.

Roy decided that _he_ would be the judge of that.

* * *

Around 5:30, Roy was approached by a nurse that informed him he had a phone call waiting for him. Reluctantly, the General got up and followed her. She led him to a nearby set of phones in a private corner outside of the waiting room and gestured to the nearest line.

Roy slowly picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Hello?" His voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

"_Hey-o Roy_!" _That voice…_

Roy groaned internally. "Lieutenant Colonel Rodin-"

"_Ah! Shoot! Right; I'm sorry_," the Colonel apologized. "_Lieutenant Colonel Rodin calling to request an update on First Lieutenant Hawkeye_."

"I'd like an update myself," the General replied passively. It had been a few hours since he last spoke with Marcoh. "But, last I heard, things were going well."

Realizing that the General was not going to elaborate further at that moment, the Colonel quickly changed the subject. "_Lieutenant Falman and I just returned from Turlorn. We gathered some evidence, but, well, we found another body_…"

Roy's heart sank. "Did you identify it?" he asked quietly.

"_Yeah_," the Colonel answered despondently. "_Young woman, mid-thirties, short, brown hair. Her name was Marie Turner_."

"How did you-"

The Colonel let out a disheartened sigh. "_She's that nurse that went missing a few days ago. Her name badge was still on her._"

"How did she-"

Again, the Colonel answered, knowing what the question would be. "_Single gunshot wound to the head. Point-blank_." He paused for a moment, as if composing himself. "_Also, she had the word 'weak' etched into her forehead_."

Roy's stomach dropped. They had seen something similar just a few weeks earlier: a young man, just a few years older than Edward, was found with his throat slit and the word 'soft' carved into his head. "What… what do these monsters want," he finally asked, his voice filled with defeat.

"_I don't know, Roy… I just don't know_."

He felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to talk anymore. All Roy wanted to do was wake up from this nightmare and go back to the way things were; where his Lieutenant would scold him for neglecting his paperwork and where he and Fullmetal would bicker about pointless things. Roy wanted all of that back. Not this harsh, twisted reality.

"_We're going back tomorrow_," he heard Rodin say after the silence became unbearable. "_A nasty sandstorm picked up so we quit early. We'll be back there first thing tomorrow._"

"Okay," Roy replied slowly. "Before you go, Colonel Rodin, about that man we left…"

Rodin sighed, "_The sand must have covered him before we got there, but we'll keep looking tomorrow._"

"Alright," Roy said. "And Colonel."

"_Yeah?_"

"I'm sorry."

Roy could hear a faint smile in Rodin's voice. "_Don't worry about it, General. I understand what you're going through. Just please, keep positive. We'll work through this together."_

"Yeah. Thanks; I appreciate it." And Roy meant it too. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"_Goodbye, sir_." Roy heard a small click, signaling that the call had ended. He pulled it away from his ear and looked down at it for a moment. Sucking in a deep breath, he hung up the receiver and made his way back to the waiting area.

However, instead of finding his men and Edward, he saw Dr. Marcoh, whom had seated himself in the chair Roy had occupied minutes before. Upon seeing the Flame Alchemist, the doctor looked up and flashed him a small, sincere smile.

Noticing the General's confusion, the doctor gently said, "I sent them home to get some rest." With that he stood and walked over to Roy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I think you should go too. You're exhausted, General."

Roy slowly shook his head and flashed him a fake smile. "I appreciate your concern, Dr. Marcoh, but I'm fine. I'll be just fine waiting here." He moved to sit down, only to have Dr. Marcoh block his path.

"Please," the doctor quietly pleaded. "I'm asking you, not as a doctor, but as a friend. You need your rest, and a hospital is not the best place to get it. You need your rest, even if it is for a few hours."

Roy frowned, examining the concerned doctor's face, looking for any signs that he would back down. He could feel his front crumbling. Roy knew in his heart that staying would only make him even more anxious. But the thought of leaving his Lieutenant was difficult to stomach. He didn't want to go.

As if he saw Roy's internal struggle, the doctor gave Roy's shoulder a small squeeze. "You still have that apartment here in Central, correct? It's about a ten minute walk from here?" _Five if I hurry._ When the General slowly nodded, he continued, "I will call you when Dr. Tennant is done. It shouldn't be more than a couple of hours now. From what he has said, everything is going well."

"All right," Roy finally sighed, feeling defeated. He would go home, but he doubted it would be restful.

With a relieved sigh, the doctor loosened his grip on the General's shoulder, letting his arm fall to his side. "I have one more thing I'd like to mention before you go."

Roy shot him a quizzical look.

"If I remember correctly, doesn't your Lieutenant love lilies?"

* * *

As Roy Mustang reluctantly trudged out of the hospital, he took a mental inventory of his subordinates and their whereabouts in case they were needed. Havoc and Breda both still had apartments in the southern and western parts of Central, respectively. Kain Fuery had initially been displaced after the dorms, and a portion of Central command, had been obliterated on the Promised Day. Since they were still working on reconstructing the structures, the Sargent had stayed with a cousin every time they were in Central. No doubt, he thought, that Fuery would be there. So that only left Fullmetal…

As if by chance, as the General rounded the corner of the hospital, he saw a bundle of brown and blond on a nearby bench. When he got closer, he identified the bundle as no one other than Edward Elric, who had wrapped himself in his brown trench. Roy watched as the boy methodically breathed in and out; he was definitely asleep. He debated whether he should wake the youth. Edward's face was completely relaxed, allowing his young age to shine through. _This is probably the first time he's getting decent sleep… on a park bench, no less._ Roy knew, however, that the days were getting shorter, and the nights were getting colder.

Roy reached out and gently prodded the boy's shoulder. Edward stirred, but refused to open his eyes. Roy tried again; this time, poking him more forcefully.

This time, Edward groaned and rolled over, wearily opening his eyes. When he saw who had stirred him, his eyes shot open and he bolted upright. Reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, the boy murmured, "So, they kicked you out too, huh?"

"Yeah," the Flame Alchemist replied. "Told me I should go home and rest for a while."

"Yeah, me too." Edward stood up slowly and stretched, shifting all of his weight onto his right leg. "I figured I would hang around out here for a while, and then sneak back in and hangout in the cafeteria."

Roy furrowed his brow, "Don't you think you should be getting some decent rest, in say, a bed?"

The boy stopped stretching and shrugged, "I guess, but hotels around here are too damn expensive. And, well, you know, the dorms are gone." Seeing the General's, surprisingly, concerned face, Edward continued, "It's not really a big deal. When Al and I traveled around, I always slept in odd places. It's nothing new. I'll be fine."

Roy wasn't convinced. Still, he managed to surprise himself, and Fullmetal, when he groaned and said, "No, that won't do. Come on." He turned and began walking away from the hospital, leaving a confused Edward in his wake. After walking a few more paces, he turned and shot the boy an annoyed look. "Are you coming?"

Edward briskly walked forward, automail creaking, falling into step beside the General. Shooting him a cautious look, he asked, "Where are we going?"

"To my place," the General answered. "I have a couch you can use. You should at least get one decent night's sleep."

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw the boy watching him. After a few prolonged moments of silence, Edward murmured, "Thank you."

"Good. Now, before we go, I have to make one quick stop."

* * *

Edward stood back a few feet as he watched Mustang unlock and open the door to his apartment. Once it was unlocked and Mustang had turned the lights on, Edward slowly followed him in, eyes scanning the room he had stepped into. It was small and bare, with only a black suede couch and coffee table, covered with a fine layer of dust, in the middle of the room. To his left, he noticed a small, galley-style kitchenette, and to his right was a hallway, most likely leading to his bedroom.

Seeing the boy's reluctance, Mustang gestured to the couch and said, "Make yourself comfortable," as he set a vase filled with lilies on the coffee table, then disappeared down the hallway. Edward fell back into the seat, his automail leg groaning, and continued to take in his new surroundings. Across the room and near the door was a bookcase filled with a variety of old, worn hardcovered books. On one of the shelves, instead of books, were five small picture frames. Edward squinted, but couldn't make out the people in the pictures. But at this point, he wasn't comfortable to get up and look for himself. Instead, he sat back, feeling a wave of exhaustion roll over him. The couch was so comfortable; he couldn't help but allow his drooping eyelids to relax.

A few moments later, however, his quick rest was interrupted by something forcefully striking the side of his face, knocking him over. In a dazed and confused panic, the boy struggled upright and pushed the assailants off of him, only to discover that they were simply a pillow and blanket. Blinking, he looked up at the General, whom was standing at the mouth of the hallway with his arms folded; a, now rare, smirk on his face. Edward glared, but that didn't wipe the smirk off of the General's face; in fact, it only seemed to broaden it.

"Thanks," Edward mumbled as he placed his head on the pillow and wrapped the blanket around himself, pulling it up to his chin, "Bastard."

Edward didn't see it, but after the General turned away and headed toward his room, his smirk turned into a small smile.

* * *

Riza could feel the immense pressure on her chest slowly decrease. Even though the darkness surrounding her had not lifted, in an odd way, it too felt lighter.

She was slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She couldn't see or hear them, but she could feel them. Two… no three, sets of feet were milling around near her.

Riza frowned internally. In her current state, she could maybe, _maybe_ overtake one person if she used the element of surprise… but three?

She was terrified. Her heart began to race at the thought of a new chapter in this seemingly endless nightmare. If they had left her alone for just a few more minutes, then she wouldn't be dealing with his constant, agonizing pain.

She hated that she had settled on that fact: of dying to escape. But still, in her eyes, it was better than the continued hell she would endure, that she _will_ endure, once she fully wakes up. They had moved her, and she had no sense of where she was anymore. For all she knew, she could be further out into the middle of the unforgiving desert.

Suddenly, the General's words came back to her, echoing in the back of her mind: _Don't you dare give up on living._

Riza felt a sense of warmth in her heart upon hearing his voice, even if it was in her head. It was the same warmth she had when someone had taken her hand between their own. She hadn't known their intentions, or known if it wasn't something fabricated by her mind; all she felt at that moment, for just a split second, was a feeling of security and hope.

And that hope, she decided, would drive her resolve.

By this point, she felt lighter. She, very slowly, flexed her toes and twitched the fingers on her right hand. She tried her left. Nothing. _Still useless…_

She knew she only had one shot at this. If she died, then at least she died trying.

The weight on her chest had lifted. She took a deep, ragged breath. Clinging to that small bit of hope, she decided on her resolve: Fight.

* * *

_Roy inhaled deeply, breathing in the earthy scents that surrounded him. Exhaling slowly, he opened his eyes and peered up at the cloudless blue sky above him. He didn't want to get up, but something at the back of his mind nagged him to._

_With a soft groan, he sat up and stretched, reaching up and over his head as he did so. After he was confident he had gotten rid of the kink in his back, he rested his palms on the grass behind him and leaned back into his arms. For miles and miles all he saw was rolling green hills. A light breeze rushed past him and moved quickly over the hilly terrain, pushing the blades of grass like waves._

_He felt at peace there. When he was there sitting on the sloping, endless terrain, nothing could ever go wrong. He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face._

"_Mr. Mustang?"_

_His eyes snapped open and he turned to look over his shoulder, hoping to locate the origin of the voice that disturbed his peace. When he saw who had spoken to him, he felt his eyes soften._

_A young girl with short blonde hair and large brown eyes, no older than thirteen, stared back. When their eyes met, she frowned. "So you joined the military," she said flatly, narrowing her brown eyes. "You know how my father feels about them. He won't teach you flame alchemy if he finds out."_

"_Even if I use it to protect those I care about? You know I can use it to protect this country and-"_

_She shook her head. "How can you expect to defend Amestris if you couldn't even protect me?"_

_His heart sank. "What…?"_

"_You heard me," she said harshly._

_As he opened his mouth to respond, the ground beneath him began to tremble. The light breeze that had been constantly washing over him suddenly became violent, whipping at his back. He turned toward the lashing wind, raising his arm up to protect his face and eyes. The sky had darkened as large, black clouds closed in._

_He whipped back around to face the young girl, "You need to go! It's-"_

_She was gone. Vanished._

_Suddenly, the ground beneath him opened up… and he was falling. Endlessly falling into a dark abyss. His yells were drowned out by a loud ringing. Ringing…_

Roy's eyes flew open and he shot up. It took him a moment to process what the sound was. On the third ring, he realized that it was the phone. Panicked, he hurled himself out of bed and toward his bedroom door.

* * *

Edward heard the ringing too. He lazily opened his eyes and looked around, his eyes trying desperately trying to adjust to the dark. He sat up and tried to locate the source of the noise. By the fourth ring, however, Mustang, still dressed in his wrinkled military uniform, had already burst out of his room and picked it up, pressing it to his ear.

He heard him mutter a few replies, "yes's", and "okay's" before quickly saying "I'll be there in five." With that, Mustang dropped the receiver and hurriedly made his way to the door, throwing his coat on over his shoulders.

As quickly as he had emerged from his bedroom, he was out the door and gone, leaving a confused and anxious Edward behind.


	6. Toy Dog

_It's gone_.

Riza propelled herself backwards as quickly as she could, until she found herself trapped in a corner.

_Gone._

She clutched her left shoulder, and then rapidly slid her hand down until she felt nothing but air. No elbow, no forearm. Just bandages, then nothingness.

_Gone. _

There were more of them. Six… maybe seven? Eight? She couldn't tell. They were running, dodging, jumping as she feebly kicked her legs out, occasionally making contact with a set of legs or a face.

_Gone._

She couldn't fight anymore. Her energy was waning. She had overestimated herself and underestimated them. They had debilitated her, and now she was trapped. How could she fight when they had taken her arm...

One of her assailants separated himself from the group and rushed at her, his footsteps pounding on the floor.

She decided that she had one chance. One last chance to fight back; even if it meant losing the battle. She kicked forcibly, and to her surprise, then horror, she connected, tangling her feet in his legs. She felt him tumble and fall. But he was unrelenting. Instead of backing down, he lunged, seizing her in his iron grip. She struggled, desperately clawing at him and beating him. Too strong. He was too strong and she was too weak.

Riza's energy was gone. Her muscles and body had betrayed her. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. The darkness was beginning to take over again.

They had won. And she had lost.

* * *

Roy Mustang made it to the hospital in record time. Four minutes after he had talked to a very distressed nurse, he was through the doors, making his way desperately down the main hallway. When one of the nurses saw him, she flagged him down and ushered him down a second hallway, her mouth going at a mile a minute. He honestly didn't know what she, or the nurse that called him, had said. The only words he was concerned about were: _Hospital. Need you here. Now._

When they turned down a third hallway, Roy could see Dr. Marcoh at the end. When he got within earshot, Roy could hear the doctor sharply giving orders to the small group of nurses that had surrounded him. By the time he had reached Marcoh, the doctor had turned his full attention to the Flame Alchemist. The doctor tried to speak to Roy, but he ignored him and rushed for the doors they were in front of. Marcoh desperately tried to hold him back from the set of doors, but the doctor's efforts proved fruitless.

His Lieutenant needed him _now._

Roy threw the doors open and stormed in, only to stop a few steps into the room, eyes widening with the horror he saw.

The scene before him looked like the site of a massacre. Bloodied handprints and saline solution covered the wall and floor, painting it a dull red. The trail of blood and fluids ran through a small group of panicked nurses and stopped at a figure cowering in the corner, her left side covered in blood.

He knew. He knew who it was.

Roy quickly stepped forward, only to have his arm caught by Dr. Marcoh. "Mustang, wait!" The doctor cried. "We don't exactly know what this-"

Roy jerked his arm away and began to walk forward. "Lieutenant…"

She didn't respond. She didn't even _look_ toward him.

"Lieutenant!" This time, he cried it out, more forcefully.

Still no acknowledgement.

He was within an arm's reach now. "Riza!"

This time she turned, terrified, widened eyes locking on, then looking through him. To his dismay, she kicked her legs out, tangling them in between his. He stumbled forward, catching himself on his hands and knees. Roy looked up in time to see her face. Her eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated fear.

He found himself diving forward, and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to himself. He didn't know why he did it; he had simply reacted. Apparently, she didn't know why he did it either.

She began to panic, alternating between blindly tearing at him and hitting him with her right hand.

"Riza," he choked out desperately. "Riza, please, listen to me!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears.

He pleaded her name over and over, tightening his grip as he begged.

Finally, her assault ended. She feebly tapped her fist against his shoulder one last time, her head bowing forward and resting against it. He felt her body relax as she went limp in his arms, every ounce of her energy gone.

Instantly, Dr. Marcoh and a few additional nurses were at their side, quickly pulling her away from a fatigued and shocked Mustang.

He turned his head slightly; seemingly unable to process everything that was happening. Roy could only watch passively as they began reconnecting her IV line, inserting a variety of needles with syringes full of unidentifiable medicines into the new saline-filled bag they had connected to the line.

And for probably the fifth time that day, Roy Mustang felt completely, utterly useless.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" asked Mustang darkly as he looked up from his hands, which were folded neatly in his lap. He glared at the man who was sitting at the desk before him.

Dr. Marcoh wearily rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and sighed. "That's what I'm trying to piece together, General. From what my nurses are telling me, she was unprovoked-"

"Why didn't you call me," Roy retorted sharply, "when you were planning on waking her up?"

"I already explained to you, General; It was a fluke. One of the nurses misheard my directions, and instead began recovery too quickly."

"Then explain to me why she didn't respond to me. Dr. Marcoh, you know my Lieutenant; she never ignores an order!"

Dr. Marcoh let out a drawn out, exhausted sigh, "That's what I've been racking my brains on for the past couple of minutes, General. When she was still sedated, I performed a quick physical evaluation. Eardrums were intact, and pupils dilated and constricted with the appropriate amount of light stimulation." Ignoring the General's continuous glare, he proceeded cautiously, "I have seen something like this before, when I was stationed in Ishval years ago."

The General's gaze softened slightly at the mention of Ishval.

"I've seen it before, but never this combination of symptoms. Tell me, General, did they ever teach you about conversion disorder as a part of your interrogation training?"

Roy slowly shook his head, eyes hardened once again. "No. So what is it?" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"It's something that even we doctors are still trying to fully understand. But what we are figuring out is that it is a way of showing psychological stress in a physical way. So, something must have happened to trigger this; something stressful that she didn't want to see or hear." He watched as the General's gaze completely softened. "We must tread very carefully, General. The body is good at healing physical injuries, but the mind is different; it requires time and patience."

Mustang leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees and intertwining his fingers. "How… how long will she be like this?"

The doctor slowly shook his head, "I don't know, General. It's generally temporary, but it can take weeks or even months for symptoms to resolve. With immediate and proper management, they will go away in time. Right now, we need to focus on getting her to allow us to take proper care of her."

Roy looked at him with a worn expression. "How are we going to do that if she won't even let you touch her?"

"That's the thing, General. We can't do anything about that; we need her trust." The doctor looked Roy in the eyes, his face serious. "But you can do something about it, because there is no one in this world that she trusts more than you."

* * *

Edward looked at the clock on the wall in Mustang's living room. It was midnight. The General had rushed out around 10p.m., so two hours had passed. He wrinkled his brow in concern. Had something happened?

Deciding that he couldn't idly sit around (he was much too awake for that now), Edward stood and threw on his brown trench coat. Limping over to the coffee table, he grabbed the vase filled with lilies and began making his way toward the door.

Before he opened it, however, he stopped; his eyes again gravitating toward the picture frames on the dusty bookcase. He narrowed his eyes and studied them.

The first was a picture of Roy, dressed in civilian attire, standing next to a larger, black-haired woman, adorned with various jeweled trinkets and a red dress. She looked very similar to Mustang, but not as much as a mother would. _An aunt, maybe?_

The next picture caused Edward's heart to drop slightly. It was a picture of Maes Hughes and Roy in partial uniform, their arms around each other in a silly embrace. Both of their eyes were closed and they were smiling widely. Roy's arm was loosely hanging around the other man's neck, while Hughes had his arm behind Roy, flashing a "thumbs up" to the camera.

Not wanting to dwell too long on the memory of the late Brigadier General, Edward slowly turned his gaze toward the third picture. He felt a small smile creep across his face. All of Mustang's team members, plus Edward and Al, were seated or standing around a wooden table. He remembered that day: the team had thrown together a small cookout to welcome the two boys to Eastern City. Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda were standing next to the grill chatting casually, a spatula in Havoc's right hand and a cigarette in his left. Vato Falman was standing at the end of the table, a drink in hand and a small smile on his face, staring directly into the camera. On his left, seated at the table, was Alphonse. The suit of armor was holding an empty glass up in a toast. Across from him was Lieutenant Hawkeye, her arm raised, glass in hand, returning the toast to Al. Edward casually noted that her hair was grown out enough to just reach her shoulders. He found himself wondering why she had chosen to grow it out in the first place.

Tearing his eyes away from the Lieutenant, in an effort to stop the growing pain in his chest, he looked down the table. He saw himself seated next to Al, across from the then Colonel Mustang. He had been caught mid-yell, his finger pointed accusingly at the older man, most likely barraging the Colonel with a variety of insults. The Colonel, nearly his polar opposite, was leaning back, his eyes closed and his arms folded in front of him, his mouth open in a gleeful laugh. Finally, Edward saw Kain Fuery in the corner of the picture, glancing over his shoulder, caught mid-sprint. Most likely, Edward deduced, the camera had a timer and the Sargent had set it.

With the small smile still on his face, Edward turned his attention to the fourth picture. It was a picture of Mustang and Hawkeye wearing their military garb. Mustang was seated at his desk, elbows resting on it, and his chin resting on his interlaced hands. A small smile graced his lips. On the other hand, Lieutenant Hawkeye was standing just behind him and to his left, her hair in its typical updo and her arms crossed behind her back. Unlike Mustang's, her expression was a stoic one; though Edward noted, her eyes were soft. This picture looked recent.

He turned away from the picture, pushing the word _recent_ out of his head. He didn't want to think about anything recent.

Finally, his eyes rested on the fifth picture. This was an older one, with its edges slightly boxed and the gloss having faded long ago. In it were two children. Edward squinted, identifying the first as a younger Roy, no older than fifteen. He was grinning, his smiling eyes focused on the person next to him. Edward's eyes darted over to the second child. She was a head shorter than Roy and a few years younger. Her light hair was cut short with a tomboyish appearance and her large, dark eyes were fixed on the camera, seemingly oblivious to the charmed boy next to her. Her hand was outstretched, a small, undistinguishable figurine resting on her palm. A small smile was painted on her face. Edward's eyes narrowed. She had an uncanny resemblance to… Hawkeye?

Suddenly, everything made sense. Mustang's reactions, his almost obsessive concern, and his unwavering loyalty to his subordinate. His passion, his drive, and… his love.

Edward had always known that they loved each other. He knew the moment he had first seen them interact. From the way they looked at each other to the way their hands brushing past each other's when they exchanged paperwork; it was almost painstakingly obvious. But now it made sense.

His eyes scanned back to the younger Mustang. Edward recognized the look that he was giving her. It was one of love. The General hadn't fallen in love with her in Ishval or while serving the military. He had fallen in love with her much earlier than that.

Edward slowly became aware that he was still standing, clutching the vase and flowers in his hands. He looked down at them, suddenly seeing their significance.

Casting one last glance at the fifth picture, Edward turned, the flowers in hand, and made his way to the door; opened it, and closed it behind him.

* * *

Roy was terrified. He didn't know how he was going to do this; to make the Lieutenant trust him without panicking again. But he knew that he had to try. _At least_, he thought to himself, _I have one trick up my sleeve._

She was awake now. Dr. Marcoh had adjusted the bed she was in so that she was sitting upright. Her brown eyes were cautiously scanning the room.

When Roy had asked why she was bothering to look around, the doctor had replied by telling him that she was most likely acting defensively, trying to make them think she saw them. The thought broke his heart.

He knew that it was now or never. Slowly, cautiously, he reached forward, taking her hand in his.

She gasped and flinched away, turning her brown-eyed gaze toward him, silently warning him.

He decided to continue, this time gingerly taking her wrist in his right hand, his other hand gently grasping her elbow, pulling her arm closer.

She tried in vain to pull her arm away, but quickly gave up, realizing that she couldn't pull away from his firm grip. Her cold gaze gave way to one that was filled with fear.

Keeping his tight grip on her wrist, he released his other hand and quickly dug into his pocket, pulling out a small, tan-colored object. Before she could attempt at pulling away again, the General gently placed it in her palm, and then released his hold on her wrist.

She swiftly withdrew her arm, curling her fingers around the object.

He watched as she methodically ran her thumb over it, feeling every imperfection and flaw on the piece. She moved her eyes downward, as if scanning it.

Dr. Marcoh, who was standing behind Roy's chair, finally spoke. "What is that," he breathed.

Roy smiled weakly, never taking his eyes off his Lieutenant. "A toy dog."

"A toy what?"

Roy sighed slowly. "Long story short; when we were just kids, one of the first things I transmuted from stone was this small dog figurine. She loved it, but I hated it. I immediately found so many flaws with it that I tried taking it from her. I wanted to make something better for her. Of course, she refused, saying it was perfect the way it was. One thing led to another, and before we could react, she dropped it, breaking its left ear off." His lips drew into a thin smile at the memory. "She was so upset with me; even though I made a new one, she wanted the original, still claiming that it was perfect the way it was.

"Of course, I lied and told her that I had gotten rid of it." He chuckled lightly, "She didn't speak to me for a week." He looked up at Riza, who was still running her thumb along the figurine, turning it in her hand. "I kept it, though, as a reminder of our childhood; our innocence. I've carried it with me these past few weeks, too; kind of like a good luck charm."

Dr. Marcoh opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he saw Roy tense.

Riza had turned the dog over and had run her thumb over the spot where it was missing its ear. She stopped, eyes slowly widening in recognition. She ran her thumb over the spot again and again until, Roy assumed, she was sure about what she was feeling.

Her face slowly changed, first to an expression of disbelief, then to one of relief. Slowly looking up, she trained her gaze on where she determined his face would be. Her glistening eyes stared into his own.

"Roy…" Her voice came out as a hoarse, weak whisper, as if she hadn't spoken in weeks.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and reached forward, wrapping his hand around her right forearm. He lifted his thumb and began quickly tapping rhythmically on her arm. "_I'm here."_

She drew in a ragged breath, desperately trying to choke back a sob.

Roy gently released her arm and tucked his arm behind her, his hand between her shoulder blades, supporting her as she lifted herself up.

Leaning forward, Riza reached beneath Roy's arm and wrapped her arm around and up, gripping his shoulder tightly. She buried her head into his chest, this time letting a quiet sob escape her lips.

He wrapped his other arm around her and drew her close, taking care to avoid her injuries. He felt the lump in his throat forming again, but he didn't try to push it back. Instead, he embraced it, letting his emotions flow out. Emotions that had built up for the past few months: rage, terror, despair; he let them all go… and he wept.

He wept to rid himself of his negative emotions, to replace them with feelings of hope and happiness and love.

Roy knew that the coming weeks and months would be difficult, and they sometimes would seem impossible, but right here and right now, that didn't matter.

Because right now, the only thing that mattered was that they were reunited, together at last.

* * *

**And that concludes Chapter 6, "Toy Dog."**

**I had trouble naming this chapter, to be honest (which is funny, because I already have the next two chapters named, and I haven't even written them yet!). I was stuck between "Photographs," "Together," and "Toy Dog." I ended up on "Toy Dog" because I like the significance (and I also like to imagine that readers who read the chapter title before reading the chapter will see the title and think 'What…?'). "Together" was a close second though, since a previous chapter was named "Separated."**

**I hope I conveyed their emotions well in this chapter. So hopefully I translated what I saw eloquently, and didn't make anything too cheesy sounding or unclear. **

**And the whole tapping on Riza's arm thing; I will explain it more clearly next chapter, but it's pretty much Morse code (in case anyone was wondering). So when you see text in italics and quotes, that is what Roy is saying via the code. **

**Also, if you have time, check out "conversion disorder" online. It's pretty interesting (and it's real; not something I made up). The reason why that and those particular symptoms were written into the story will be explained in time (but it is significant, like everything else). Because someone rarely comes out of a situation like that without psychological damage.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will probably be out early-mid week next week.**


	7. Rays of Light

Roy winced every time he saw the needle and surgical suture poke and weave through the wound on Riza's side. Wounds he could handle, but suturing, for whatever reason, made him uncomfortable. Still, the process was a lot faster than he had anticipated; though Dr. Marcoh claimed he had been out of practice for a while, his hands begged to differ. His large, gloved hands moved quickly and efficiently, pulling the suture material through both sides of the wound, closing it, and knotting it in mere seconds.

As the doctor moved onto the final knot, Roy turned his attention back to his Lieutenant. She was lying on her right side; her right arm was stretched out in front of her her, held between both of Roy's hands. Her eyes were finally closed and she was taking deep, long breaths. But Roy knew that she wasn't sleeping. Every time he moved or flinched, her eyes would fly open, her face filled with worry. After giving her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, she would eventually relax and close her eyes again.

Dr. Marcoh had warned Roy that the pain relievers he had given her would help her sleep, but it appeared that this time that wasn't the case. It was as if she was afraid of falling asleep.

"Well," Dr. Marcoh finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I believe I got all of the original sutures out. I used a stronger material this time, so the wound should not open as easily as it did this time." The doctor paused, then noted, "That being said, I would like for you to tell her when she wakes up to not make any sudden movements or move too often, especially for these first few days." He reached over and gently tugged the fabric of her new scrub shirt over the stitched wound.

"Unfortunately, she isn't sleeping yet," Roy replied wearily. He reoriented his hands so he was holding her hand in one of them and began rapidly drummed the fingers from his other hand on Riza's wrist. She indolently opened her eyes, staring straight ahead, and furrowed her brow. After a few moments, she acknowledged the instructions with a faint nod of her head, and then slowly closed her eyes again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy could see the doctor watching them intently. He turned his head and looked back at the doctor. "Is there anything else you need to tell her?"

Marcoh slowly shook his head before asking, "Tell me, General, what is that code you are using? It certainly isn't military."

Roy shrugged his shoulders slightly, "It's just something we came up with years ago. Similar to Morse code, but a bit more complex." He left it at that. He did not feel the need or desire to explain that it was something they had devised when Roy was her father's student in order to silently communicate through the walls of their bedrooms.

Realizing that the younger man would not elaborate further, the doctor quickly grabbed his tools and supplies and began putting them into a leather bag. Once he had finished organizing his belongings, he stood and said, "I will leave you two alone now." Glancing up at the clock on the wall, he added, "A nurse will be in some time around 12:30 for the next round of medications."

Roy, who had turned back to watch Riza and had her hand cupped again between his, nodded silently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Marcoh make his way to the door. When the doctor had his hand on the door handle, Roy cleared his throat, grabbing Marcoh's attention. As the man turned back to him, Roy murmured, "Thank you, Dr. Marcoh, for everything."

The corners of Marcoh's lips turned upward in a small smile. "Of course, General." Without another word, the older man quietly slipped out the door, gently closing it behind him.

After the doctor had gone, Roy turned his full attention back to Riza. During his brief discussion with Dr. Marcoh, he had noticed that her grip on his hand had slowly loosened. Now, the only thing holding her hand where it was were his two hands. She had finally fallen asleep.

He frowned. Though he was thankful she was finally resting, Roy couldn't help but feel crestfallen. She had not spoken since she had uttered his name, instead only communicating to him by shaking her head or nodding, never once casting her eyes in his general direction. Something was haunting her, and that greatly upset him. He wanted to know what was going on inside her mind, the inevitable turmoil she was experiencing. Roy knew better than to ask, but sitting idly by while she struggled to make sense of it all made him feel physically ill. He wanted to share her burden, so that she didn't have to fight alone. He wanted to-

Roy's thoughts were interrupted by a small _rasp_ on the door. As he looked up, the door slowly opened, revealing an exhausted Fuhrer Grumman. Upon seeing Roy, the Fuhrer shot him a subdued grin.

Closing the door behind him, the Fuhrer slowly advanced forward, his eyes fixed on Riza. Once he had made it around the bed and next to Roy, the tired old man collapsed in the chair previously occupied by Dr. Marcoh. After a few moments of silence, Grumman finally cleared his throat and spoke, his voice low, "I ran into Dr. Marcoh in the hallway. He had been giving me updates all day and he just gave me his latest report." The older man slowly turned his weary gaze toward the Flame Alchemist. "This definitely wasn't something I was expecting, General Mustang. However," he leaned forward slightly, "I am thankful that _you_ are here."

"Sir…"

The old man smiled sadly, "I want to thank you for everything you've done for my granddaughter, everything up until this point and beyond." He turned back to a sleeping Riza, his eyes distant, "I have already lost my wife and my daughter; I was so afraid that I would lose her too." He paused, the silence stretching on for minutes, his brows knitted together.

When he had returned from his memories, he looked Roy in the eye, "Thanks to you and your men, I don't have to say goodbye; I just have to wait a while longer before saying 'hello' again."

Roy didn't respond at first. Instead, he watched the older man, taking in his appearance. The past few months have not been kind to the Fuhrer. His normally bright eyes were dulled, almost lifeless, and the corners of his mouth hung in a perpetual frown, unlike the small smile he was often seen wearing. Roy knew that the past couple of months had been stressful for the old man. Becoming the leader of a broken country was no easy task. Take that _and _factor in the current situation, and you have a worn-down, exhausted leader.

"Sir, are you okay?" Roy finally spoke, his concerned eyes desperately trying to catch the older man's.

Grumman forced a smile and turned slightly toward Roy. "I will be now, General, because I know that you are here with her.

"That being said, I have decided to temporarily suspend your time in Ishval." Ignoring the General's surprised gasp, the Fuhrer continued, his eyes looking down at his hands, which were clasped together in his lap, "For the time being, Major Miles will take over any and all operations." He paused, as if expecting Mustang to counter back. When no protest came, Grumman looked up and went on, "Your new assignment will be to remain here in Central in order to work on Riza's case."

Roy slowly nodded. He should not have been surprised; he had seen this coming. The past few months he had pushed many of his responsibilities to the side, oftentimes having the case take precedent over tasks that involved the rebuilding. He was too emotionally invested, and the reconstruction of Ishval was suffering because of it. For now, it was the best and only option that Roy saw; he simply could not bear the thought of leaving his Lieutenant's side.

Still, he could not shake the feelings of guilt that plagued him for leaving so many projects undone in the struggling region. He felt as if he had failed Riza, the Fuhrer, and the people of Ishval.

Seeing the lines of distress on the General's face, Grumman reached out and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. As if he had read the younger's mind, the Fuhrer said, "I don't want you to think that I am removing you entirely from Ishval, General. I just feel that, for right now, the best thing you can do is to stay here, work on the case, and look after my granddaughter. After all," he said slowly, "you are the only one that can communicate with her at this time."

Roy watched as the older man slowly stood and reached behind him, rubbing his lower back. "These hospital chairs can really do a number on your back," he complained lightly. "Maybe I should actually look at their proposal for more funding; at least they'd have enough to buy some decent chairs, eh?"

Roy couldn't help but smile slightly at the Fuhrer's small attempt at lightening the mood. Even at the darkest times, the old man could still manage to find a few rays of light.

Grumman cracked his back and slowly straightened himself. "Well, I should get going. I have a council meeting bright and early to discuss the growing tension in Aerugo. Unfortunately, this is one meeting I can't sleep through." He was halfway to the door before he remembered something and spun around, "Lieutenant Colonel Rodin should be back within the next few days. I will call before then for an update."

When he made it to the door and opened it, the Fuhrer stopped once again in the doorframe. Roy watched the older man intently. Without turning back to face the General, he spoke once more, his voice soft, "Please take care of her, General." Without another word, he disappeared, closing the door behind him with a small _click_.

* * *

Edward slowly made his way down the fifth hallway he found, his attempts at navigating the hospital backfiring on him with each step. He was afraid that, if he asked for directions again, he would be "escorted" out.

He scowled. When he had asked the first nurse he encountered where the intensive care unit was, the nurse, without looking up from her work, simply replied by pointing toward the hospital's exit and noting that "visiting hours were over."

He rounded a corner and ran into something large and blue. Stumbling backwards, Edward caught himself and the vase of flowers, then glared. The soldier he had run into turned his body slightly toward the boy, glaring back.

As he opened his mouth to say something, another voice cut him off. "Oh, Edward! I didn't expect seeing you here."

Edward leaned over and peered around the uniformed man, only to find the Fuhrer himself smiling back at him. He quickly threw him a rare, though sloppy, salute. "Hello Fuhrer Grumman. I didn't expect seeing you here either." He honestly didn't. _Why is the Fuhrer here so late at night?_

Edward suddenly became aware that the Fuhrer and his military escort had stationed themselves in front of the neonatal unit. Out of the corner of his eye and through the window they were situated in front of, Edward could see a few sleeping newborns, swaddled in blue and pink blankets. "Are you visiting someone?"

The Fuhrer nodded. "I stopped by to check up on my granddaughter."

"Oh," Edward replied as he turned toward the window and leaned forward, peering through it. "Which one is yours?"

"Wha- Oh, no, no, no!" The old man chuckled and shook his head. "I just stopped to admire the little ones on my way out." The Fuhrer's eyes then wandered down to the vase of flowers in Edward's hands. "Well, those are lovely. Are you here to visit someone?"

Edward nodded and cast his glance down at the vase. "Yeah," he replied slowly. "I don't know if you know Lieutenant Hawkeye, but she's here right now, so I figured I would come by and drop these off."

"Yes, I do know Lieutenant Hawkeye quite well. She's my granddaughter," the Fuhrer replied nonchalantly.

_Granddaughter?_ Edward stared at the older man for a few seconds, unable to see any resemblance between the two. _How have I never heard this?_

As if he had read the young boy's mind, the Fuhrer elaborated. "We haven't made it public knowledge since we, or rather she, didn't want to be accused of any special treatment because of my position in power."

_That makes sense_, Edward thought, though he was still having trouble finding similarities between the two. After a few more moments of thought, he abandoned the notion completely. There were more important things to deal with. Looking up from the flowers, he asked quietly, "How is she?"

The smile that graced the Fuhrer's face slowly disappeared, replacing itself with a frown, changing his face to one of sadness." Well, she could be better, my boy." He turned his eyes away from Edward and looked wistfully through the window in front of them, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. When he spoke again, his voice was low and shaking, "It's a strange feeling… This powerlessness. I am considered the most powerful man in this country, and yet I still cannot do anything to help." He turned his distant, fatigued gaze toward Edward. "You probably can relate to her better than anyone here at this point; you're more helpful than I could ever be."

The old man nodded toward Edward, "If I remember correctly, you lost your limbs during the eastern rebellion, did you not?"

Edward, now perplexed, nodded slowly, not understanding the Fuhrer's eccentric train of thought. That was the story they fed to the rest of the military, so yes, he did "lose his limbs during the eastern conflict." But he didn't understand what any of that had to do with-

He stopped mid-thought, his mind turning back to and replaying the conversation. _Powerlessness. _Why?_ Can't help. Relate to…? _How? _Lost limbs…_

Edward's thoughts were interrupted by a loud _crash_. Stunned, he gradually tilted his head down and looked at his now empty hands. Through them, he could see the unfocused outlines of flowers, water, and broken glass strewn across the floor. Looking down at his now trembling hands, Edward's eyes widened with dismay as he was hit with the sudden realization. _No… This-this can't be! It's-that's-_

"Edward?"

At the sound of his name, Edward haltingly raised his golden eyes, only to have them meet those of the one man he couldn't bear to face: Roy Mustang.


	8. Whiskey Lullaby

Moments after the Fuhrer had left, there was another knock on the hospital room door. Seconds later, the door creaked open and a young nurse walked in, carrying a tray of syringes and medical notes. She smiled politely at the General as she made her way over to Riza's bedside.

"Hello, General," she began softly. "I'm just here to administer the next round of medications."

Roy glanced up at the clock. It was 12:20a.m.; she was early. The General simply nodded in reply.

The young woman quietly walked around behind him and gently placed the tray on the bedside table next to him. He watched as she gingerly picked up and uncapped the needle on a syringe filled with a clear, viscous liquid. Holding it in one hand, she flicked the barrel of it several times, releasing any air bubbles that had suspended themselves in the liquid. She reached over and took the IV line in her free hand and pulled it toward her.

Roy awkwardly scooted his chair away from the nurse, attempting to stay out of her way. Unfortunately, with what little space there was next to the bed, the task proved difficult. Realizing that his endeavor had failed, Roy opted to stand, pushing the chair away from himself and the nurse.

He stood uncomfortably off to the side, watching the nurse intently as she picked up the second syringe. Suspecting that she sensed his uneasiness, he noticed the young woman turn and flash him a small smile. "I will still be a few minutes, General. After I'm done dispensing these, I have to note Miss Hawkeye's vitals. Why don't you run down to the cafeteria? They just set out some fresh sandwiches."

"Thank you for letting me know, but I'm alright," Roy replied shortly. A few moments later, however, his stomach groaned in protest.

The corners of the nurse's lips turned downward. Her smile disappeared and was instead replaced with a look of concern. "Sir, I think eating would do you some good. You look awfully pale."

He shook his head adamantly. "Really, I'm fine. I ate before I got here." By the look she gave him, he knew that she had caught his lie.

The woman sighed and set down the syringe in her hand and stood. Walking a few paces over to him, she folded her arms and looked up at the Flame Alchemist, frowning. "General, I am insisting that you go." Her voice was stern.

He remained unmoving, watching her. He was just fine. He didn't have to-no, he didn't need to go.

Changing tactics, the nurse said, "Sir, if you get sick you will not be able to remain here; the risk for infection will increase. Miss Hawkeye's immune system is weakened, so something as simple as the common cold could be enough to kill her."

_That_ caught his attention. After watching the woman for a few moments, he realized that he had lost the battle. He reluctantly sighed and looked away, muttering that he would return in a couple of minutes. _I will be back in two_. Casting one last glance at Riza, the General slowly walked to the door and opened it.

After stepping into the hallway, Roy turned and quickly made his way toward the cafeteria. After navigating a few twists and turns, he found himself standing in front of the dining hall doors. Right as he was about to push and open them, he heard a loud crash.

Taking his hand off the door, he took off in the direction of the sound. Rounding one last corner, he stopped.

Edward Elric was standing in front of Fuhrer Grumman and two Amestrian soldiers, his eyes staring down at his hands. On the floor in front of him was the remnants of the vase and flowers Roy had bought earlier that night. The youth's face was as white as a sheet, his hands trembling.

Roy took a small step forward. "Edward?"

The boy's wide golden eyes shot up and met his. For a moment, neither one of them moved. Finally, Roy took another step forward, his eyes focused on the former alchemist. "Edward?" he asked again, slowly, firmly.

Edward retreated backwards, accidently running into and knocking over a passing nurse. The boy spun around and frantically looked back and forth from the nurse to Roy, his hysteria magnifying by the second.

Then, with one last, panicked look toward Roy, the boy turned and fled around the corner, disappearing from sight.

Roy bolted forward in pursuit. However, as soon as he had turned the corner, the boy was gone.

* * *

Edward ran. He ran and ran until his automail gave out beneath him, screeching as he collapsed to the ground. Turning his head and looking over his left shoulder hastily, he saw that he wasn't being pursued. He twisted his head around to the right and saw a narrow alleyway beside him. Scrambling into it, he pressed himself against a wall and curled his legs up to his chest, grabbing his head in his hands. He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, trying desperately to suppress the lump in his throat; but to no avail. The scream erupted from his mouth, the vibrations coursing throughout his body. He could hear it bouncing off the walls, playing back to him in real time, reminding him of his failure over and over again.

When his lungs had become deprived of all of the air they possessed, the echoes, along with his screams, ceased.

He remained there, unmoving, unaware of the amount of time that passed.

He killed her. Not literally, but figuratively. Indirectly.

Without her arm, how could she possibly protect Mustang? Her whole goal, _her whole purpose_, was ripped from her grasp because he couldn't follow orders. A life without meaning is no life at all. And the absence of life was death. So in his mind she was dead.

At one time, everyone had thought that she was dead… even Mustang.

He opened his eyes and stared forward through his fingers. Even the General had given up and thought that she was dead at one time. What would Mustang do now?

Edward had seen what a grief-stricken Mustang was capable of doing to himself. And that terrified him.

* * *

_Edward yawned widely and stretched his arms above him head. Opening his eyes slowly, he peered up at the clock on the wall. It was already past midnight. Probably time to turn in._

_Walking out of and closing the door to the "library" (or rather, a small, dull room with literally two bookcases), Edward gradually made his way down the darkened hallway._

_All of the lights were out in every room he passed, so most of the soldiers were probably already up on the third level of the complex in their dorms, sleeping. Like he should be. He had missed the "strongly encouraged" curfew that was set for 11p.m. every night. No one was allowed outside the building or unaccompanied in the hallways after that time. But as far as he could tell, no one was enforcing it. He was completely alone._

_As he turned down another hallway, he thought back to that day's mission. Mustang, Havoc, Breda, and he had followed a lead that Lieutenant Colonel Rodin had given them. This one had led them to an old abandoned warehouse a few towns over. The only things they had found were discarded machinery, a few loose wrappers, and a very surprised, and angry, homeless man. So in summary, another failure._

_After they had piled back into the vehicle they had driven there, Edward could see the desperation in the General's eyes. He knew that as soon as they would get back, Mustang would have to write another report documenting their failure and turn it in to the bookkeeper there, who would not-so-subtly jab at the team, citing them for using valuable resources for a lost cause._

_The first few times, Mustang nearly set the man on fire (if it hadn't been for Havoc, he probably would have succeeded). The last time, though, the General simply turned in the report, took the inevitable berating, and quietly returned to his office._

_This time, however, Mustang didn't return after filing his report._

_Now, Edward was coming up on the office that they all shared. As he walked past, he nonchalantly glanced at the door. Something bright caught his eye. He stopped and backtracked, noticing that the door was slightly cracked open. Gently pushing against it, the door slowly opened without effort. Peering inside, he saw a small, dimmed oil lamp sitting on the floor. Next to it, back leaning against the desk was the silhouette of a man._

_He narrowed his eyes and slowly crept forward, eyes never leaving the shadow. When he was within a few feet of the mysterious person, Edward's eyes opened with recognition._

_Roy Mustang sat cross-legged in front of him, leaning his back against the oak desk that was meant for him. His already unkempt hair looked even more so, sticking out at odd angles. A plethora of papers was strewn carelessly around him. Resting on top of one of them was his hand, which was clutching a large bottle of whiskey. It was half empty._

_Still unaware of the boy's presence, the General lifted the bottle to his lips and took a swig, closing his eyes as the fiery liquid burned his throat. He leaned his head back and rested it on the edge of the desk. After a few moments, he slowly became aware of his unexpected company. Dark, hollow eyes trained over to the boy and locked on him, narrowing coldly. "Oh… Hey Fullmetal," his voice full of venom._

_Ignoring the General's cruel welcome, Edward pointed at the bottle seated next to the inebriated man. "Where did you get that?" he asked harshly. "I thought this was a dry country." He surprised himself by his tone, but he couldn't help it. What the hell was the General doing?_

_The General simply shrugged and turned away from the boy, staring straight ahead. After taking another drink, he finally growled, "I brought it."_

_Edward could feel his anger rising within him, threatening to boil over. Before that could happen, he stopped himself and instead asked calmly, "Why are you drinking it?"_

_The General raised and lowered his shoulders again, "Because I can."_

_Edward positioned himself in front of the man and crouched down, so that he was only a foot from the General. His eyes slowly ran down Mustang's other arm, finding his fist balled around a crumpled piece of paper._

_Before the General could even react, the boy snatched the paper from his hand and stood up. Mustang responded by lunging at the boy, but his lack of coordination bested him, causing him to fall forward on his hands._

_As Mustang was recovering, Edward smoothed out the paper now in his possession. Squinting in the dim light, he could just make out the first few sentences: _'Status change: First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Missing in action. Presumed dead. Effective: 05/09/1915.'

_He felt his heart drop. _They had given up_. He slowly looked up, golden eyes once again meeting lifeless, charcoal ones. _And he… even he has given up_._

_Without thinking, Edward grabbed the front of Mustang's jacket and pulled him forward, the Flame Alchemist's face inches from his own. "So you're just giving up!?" he snarled threateningly._

_The General stared back, his dark eyes dull and nearly devoid of life. This only made Edward angrier._

"_Answer me!"_

_Mustang shoved Edward away and fell backwards, smashing into the desk. He slowly raised a trembling finger and pointed at the boy, his glare piercing through the former alchemist. "I am your__**commanding officer**__. You have __**no **__right to-"_

"_-To treat you that way, right?" Edward finished furiously. "Well guess what? I didn't sign up for this, only to give up when someone says so. And you know what else… I am __**no **__follower to someone that quits!"_

"_Then leave," Mustang slurred, his words laced with poison._

"_No," Edward shot back._

"_You read the report," Mustang fired back as he raised the bottle to his lips again. "'Presumed dead,'" his voice cracked at the word 'dead.' "What more do you want me to-"_

"_I want you to get up and keep moving forward," Edward was yelling, screaming, now; he smacked the bottle out of Mustang's hands. It landed a few feet away and shattered into thousands of pieces, spewing mahogany-colored liquid everywhere. He didn't care. He'd break a thousand bottles and wake the entire building if necessary. "That's __**exactly**__ what I'm going to do. Because until we find a body, I'm going to assume that she's alive!"_

_Edward slowly rose to his feet and looked down at the General, his eyes softening the longer he looked. "Mustang… please," he quietly begged. "Don't give up. You," he gestured toward the General, "you're better than that. I know you are."*_

_Upon hearing those words, the Flame Alchemist stopped and stared up at the boy, his dark eyes widening. After a few moments, he looked down and buried his face into his hands, sitting motionlessly._

_Edward didn't know how long they remained there; him standing and Mustang sitting back against his desk. If he had to guess, it was probably a solid hour. Neither one of them dared to move._

_Finally, Mustang shifted and slowly staggered to his feet. Using the desk for support, he steadied himself. After he had gained his balance, he took a step forward and stumbled._

_Edward rushed to him and caught him before he hit the floor. Grabbing the General's arm, he wrapped it around his shoulders and began walking him toward the door, allowing Mustang to brace against him, his head resting heavily against Edward's shoulder._

_Mustang mumbled a few unintelligible words of protest, but Edward ignored them, instead choosing to silently lead him into a nearby elevator._

_Once they had reached the third floor, Edward slowly made his way over to Mustang's room. When they arrived, he pushed the door open, turned on the lights, and dragged the older man to his bed._

_Mustang reached out and, once he felt it, collapsed into it, resting his head against the pillow._

_Edward remained there, watching the General for a few moments. After a small snore confirmed that the man was asleep, Edward sank down next to the bed, eyeing the General wearily. It was going to be a long night._

* * *

_Boom!_

Edward jumped, startled out of his memory. He looked up at the sky and realized that the sky had let go, and a cold, hard rain was cascading around him. He hadn't even noticed that it had started to pour.

He sat, unmoving, letting the rain run down his face. His bangs clung to his face in a tangled mess, his body completely soaked to the bone.

He didn't know what to do now. He couldn't go back to Resembool… not yet. And he couldn't bear facing Mustang. And yet… he knew he had to. He had been the only one to see Mustang in that darkened state of mind. If he couldn't be there… who would be?

A chill ran up Edward's spine as he suddenly became aware of a dark shadow looming over him. He jerked his head around to see the outline of a man standing before him. A streak of lightening ripped through the air above, illuminating the figure and lighting up his features: wet, dripping black hair, cold coal-colored eyes, and a military jacket. His stomach dropped. _How long had he been standing there?_

Roy Mustang knelt down and grabbed the boy's shoulders, looked him square in the eye and muttered, "Come with me."

Edward slowly nodded before trying to struggle to his feet, his automail protesting with every move he made. When he was about to straighten himself out, Mustang grabbed him firmly beneath the arm and lifted him to his feet. Edward didn't object, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground.

Mustang half-dragged, half-carried the hobbling teen to a waiting car. The older man opened the passenger side door for the boy and guided him in. After slamming the door shut, Mustang jogged around the car and slid into the driver's seat. Without a word, he shifted the car into 'drive' and began making his way down the cobblestone street.

After a few minutes of listening to the purr of the car's engine, the General finally spoke, his eyes remaining on the road. "Why did you run?"

Edward flinched. It was more of a statement than a question. Instead of replying, he simply turned his head and solemnly stared out the window, watching the houses whiz past them. For once in his life, he couldn't think of a single thing to say to Roy Mustang.

* * *

After driving in silence for another ten minutes, they eventually arrived at their destination: Roy Mustang's apartment. The older man stopped the vehicle and put it into 'park' in front of the building. Out of the corner of Edward's eye, he could see Mustang turn toward him. Edward instinctively placed his hand on the door handle, trying not to look the General in the eye. He wanted to run again, as fast as he could away from the Flame Alchemist. But he knew he couldn't. With his damaged automail leg and the fact that Mustang had a car, Edward knew that his chances of outrunning the flame Alchemist were zero to none.

He didn't even know why he ran in the first place. He couldn't escape what happened; he knew that what was done was done. Still, he knew running didn't help. It was downright childish. But the thought of facing Mustang had become too much. He panicked and his body responded to that alarm, taking him as far away from the situation as it could.

But now, here he was, seated beside the man he had slowly, irrationally, begun to fear. His palms began to sweat and his heart was racing. He swallowed once, but his throat was arid. Even if he could speak, would he be able to?

Maybe if he just opened his mouth, the words would flood out and piece themselves together in a coherent mess of apologies and guilt. Maybe Mustang would understand, or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe a portal would open and Truth would drag him through. Even facing God would be better than facing Roy Mustang at this moment.

But he knew he had to.

Edward wetted his lips and cleared his throat. It was now or never.

"I-"

"You should go inside and get cleaned up," Mustang interrupted, face now turned toward the windshield, his expression deadpan and distant. "If there is anything you actually want to say to me, you can save it for later when I get back."

Edward watched him for a few moments, unsure whether or not Mustang would speak further.

Instead, Mustang turned back to the boy, his blank expression turned to one of indignation. "Are you going?" he asked, his voice laced with scorn.

Obeying the General's first order, Edward complied, opening the door and stumbling out. By the time he had closed it and turned back to face the vehicle and the man inside of it, Mustang was already halfway down the road.

Edward stared after the car, watching it as it turned a corner and disappeared. Once it was gone, he limped up the stairs and to the building's door, opened it, and went inside.

* * *

As soon as Edward entered the apartment, he felt a sense of unease wash over him. He suddenly felt like a trespasser, unwelcome.

Taking off his soaking wet jacket, he slowly dragged himself to the kitchen and wrung it out in the sink. Hearing the water hit the bottom of the steel basin made him realize how thirsty he was; he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten or drank anything.

He swallowed, trying to wet his raw, scratchy throat, but to no avail.

Reluctantly, he reached up to the nearest cupboard and opened it, hoping to find a small glass he could use. Instead, what he found was a nearly empty bottle of whiskey; the same brand Mustang drank in Ishval over a month ago. He slowly reached for it, but shrank back, his eyes remaining fixed on the container.

* * *

_Edward was the first to arrive in the small office they shared that next morning. Grabbing a dustpan and broom, he quickly swept up the remains of broken glass that decorated the floor. Unfortunately, the liquid had stained the carpeting. Hopefully no one would notice._

_Shortly after he had disposed of the evidence from the previous night's scene, Lieutenants Havoc and Breda arrived, soon followed by Sargent Fury. The three men greeted Edward, commenting on his earliness. He shrugged, and muttered that he had woken up and had nothing better to do. In reality, he had stayed up most of the night, cleaning up anything Mustang expelled from his stomach and making sure the older man was still breathing._

_8:00a.m. came and went, causing the men to question where their General was._

_Edward quickly fed them a fabricated story, saying that he had run into an ill Mustang earlier. The General, according to Edward, had accidentally eaten some expired food from a few days prior and had gotten food poisoning as a result._

_The men seemed to accept it, remembering the questionable meatloaf that was served a couple of days ago, citing that that was most likely the culprit._

_The rest of the day had gone by without incident. Every once in a while, one of the men would get up and mention something about going and checking on the General. Edward would interject every time, offering to go in their place, since he needed to go to the bathroom, pick something up from his dorm, etc. (anything that would convince them that he needed go upstairs instead of them)._

_The final time Edward had ventured upstairs to the General's room, as he was about to open the door, he heard movement inside. He frantically backed away and hid behind a corner, keeping his eyes fixed on the door._

_After a few moments, the door creaked open, and a disoriented General Mustang wandered out, rubbing his temples with his fingers. The man staggered to the washroom across the hall and disappeared inside._

_Determining that that was a sign Mustang was improving, Edward quietly slipped away, returning to the office below._

* * *

_The next day, Mustang returned to work looking worse for wear. The dark circles under his eyes had grown and his hair and uniform were unkempt, giving the normally well-groomed man a sloppy and distasteful appearance._

_When the men asked how he was doing, the General would glare, causing them to abandon their curiosity and scurry back to their seats in defeat._

_Edward noticed that the man rarely paid him any heed, ignoring him for the most part. Every once in a while, he swore he could feel Mustang glaring at the back of his head. However, every time he turned around, the General had his eyes glued to the paperwork in front of him, completely oblivious to the boy's stare._

_By the end of that day, Edward had determined that the man had no recollection of their encounter two nights before. _It's probably for the best_, he thought to himself, thankful that that was the case. He didn't want to imagine what Mustang would do to him if he remembered the way Edward had spoken to him._

_When 5:00p.m arrived, the General promptly picked up his papers, muttered a quick goodbye, and was on his way out the door. As the man passed Edward's desk, Edward cautiously glanced up, his eyes flicking to the file titled 'Ongoing Investigation' tucked underneath Mustang's arm._

_Sticking out of the manila folder was the corner of a familiar wrinkled piece of paper._

* * *

Edward blinked a few times, realizing that his eyes were still locked on the bottle in front of him. Without thinking, he pulled the bottle down off of the shelf and set it on the counter. Walking over to the other cupboards, Edward threw their respective doors open and peered inside all of them. He repeated this for every cupboard, nook, and cranny in the entire kitchen and living room. After finding one other full bottle of liquor, the boy returned to the sink.

Staring at the bottle one last time, Edward thought about how unassuming it looked. To him, it looked like nothing more than a foul-smelling, brown liquid that only caused his nose to wrinkle in disgust. In reality, he knew that it was so much more than that. It had the potential to kill.

It had no right being there, sitting alone in that dark cupboard, silently beckoning a weakened man's mind. It had almost taken Mustang once, and, Edward decided, it would not have the chance to try and take him again.

Pulling the top off of the whiskey, he tipped the container and let the amber liquid flow out of it and down the drain.


	9. Escape

**Again, just a warning that this chapter has dark tones. Reader discretion is advised. (More author's notes at the end.)**

* * *

_Riza stared at the small, black object that had been tossed through the small barred window of the steel door she was imprisoned behind. It was familiar._

_Slowly she reached out, her hand trembling, and clumsily grasped the barrel of the handgun, pulling it closer to herself. If she had the strength, she would have sat up and taken it in both hands so that she could examine it further. Instead, she remained on her right side, her left hand awkwardly wrapped around the barrel. She could tell from her position its make, model, and type: it was her gun, after all._

_Her eyes darted up to lock with the black, beady ones that stared back through the barred window. The very sight of those eyes made her stomach churn and her pulse intensify. She had never truly feared anyone, except for this man._

_She barely knew what he looked like, aside from his small black, soulless eyes. Most of the time, he and his "brothers" wore masks, concealing their identities. That one fact she clung to, because if they were trying to hide their faces, there was a chance she would escape. If they had shown them by now, she would know what they looked like, and her chances of survival would be slim. So, she held onto the small possibility of freedom._

_This time, his mask was removed. All she could see was his forehead and eyes. From what she could tell, his hair was greasy and black, and most likely grown out from the way he parted it. Any other features were concealed by the meager amount of light given off by the small lantern that hung by the door, always lit._

_She frowned. It was alarming that he wasn't wearing his mask. "What's the special occasion," she finally managed to croak, "I can see your face."_

_The corners of his eyes turned upward and wrinkled. He was smiling. "It _is _a special occasion, Lieutenant." She could hear the grin in his voice. "But first, I must ask. Did anyone bring you your celebratory dinner?"_

_She narrowed her eyes. Of course not. It was the same thing every time. They'd "forget" to give her any food for a few days, before finally "remembering," and bringing, at most, a loaf of bread and a canteen of lukewarm, dirty water._

"_They must have forgotten," she replied hardly._

"_Oh, that's a shame," he responded with a lack of empathy in his voice, "You must be starving."_

_Honestly, she really wasn't. She was past having pangs of hunger at that point. Her body had given up on food and had stopped demanding it days ago. Her sensation of hunger was gone._

_Still, the last time they had made their rounds, one of them was "kind" enough to toss her a piece of half-eaten bread, which she stashed in her pocket, saving it for when, or if, she did get her appetite back._

"_Well," he continued, "I will have to remind one of them if you decide to stay here with us."_

_She furrowed her brow. _Stay with them…?

"_I should elaborate," he purred. "I came to give you a message from the boss."_

'The boss,' _she thought to herself. Someone that she always heard of, but never saw._

"_Anyways," he advanced, "the boss told me that we've hit a milestone. It's been six weeks since you've gotten here!" He chuckled, "And in this case, that is certainly an achievement._

"_He wanted me to tell you that we've hit a crossroads, and you've got a very important decision to make." He paused dramatically, smiling eyes eagerly watching her, waiting for her to respond._

"_What is the decision," she questioned him sorely. She wasn't in a gaming mood._

"_We've decided to give you two options." He held his fist up to the window. "One," he pointed up with is index finger, "you can stay here with us."_

_She rolled her eyes subtly._

"_Or two," he raised his middle finger up as well, "you are allowed the option to escape."_

_At the word 'escape,' Riza glared at him. What game was he playing? Of course she'd choose to escape._

"_So," he interrupted her thoughts. "What will it be?"_

"_Elaborate on 'escape,'" she replied weakly. Hopefully, she'd have enough strength to run._

_His eyes slowly trained down to the gun he had tossed in. "See that gun," he asked._

_She nodded wearily in response._

"_I have provided you with a single bullet. Now," he said quickly, "before you try picking it up and shooting me, know that I will be long gone before you so much as touch the trigger."_

_It was true. She didn't think she could even lift the gun, much less swiftly pick it up and fire it within a few seconds time. Six weeks ago, she would have no issues pulling the trigger before he even had the time to blink._

"_Understand?" he quipped._

_She didn't understand. Was he honestly thinking she would be able to shoot out the lock and take down, was it six men they had; yeah, six, men and still be able to walk about 35 kilometers in the barren desert? She thought he was crazy, he was mad, he was…_

_Playing with her._

_Riza realized that he was toying with her. He knew that she wouldn't be able to do everything she had just planned in her mind. He was hinting about an easy escape. One that involved a single bullet._

_Her eyes followed the length of her left arm, to the gun grasped loosely in her hand. She pulled it closer and examined it. Yes, it was definitely hers. She turned it around and frowned. The magazine had been welded into the grip. She couldn't pop it out to determine if it was loaded or not._

"_So," he interrupted, "have you decided on the path you would choose?"_

_Her eyes snapped back up and met his black ones. "I _won't_ be playing your game," she hissed, pulling her left hand off of the gun and tucking it back into her body._

_The corners of his eyes lifted again in a smile, "I'll let you think about it," he decided. And just like that, he was gone, leaving her alone._

_Her eyes trained back to the gun. Was he a fool? Did he honestly think that she would take her own life?_

* * *

_Riza slowly opened her eyes and groaned softly. Her head was swimming, her thoughts fuzzy. The lack of food was taking its toll on her. And still, the thought of food made her stomach lurch. She wouldn't be able to keep it down, even if she wanted to._

_Her eyes flicked over to the gun, still resting a few feet from her. She moved her leg up and pushed it away with the toe of her boot, sending it skidding into a corner._

* * *

"_Hey."_

_Riza's eyes popped open and she looked around, trying to locate the source of that voice. It was familiar, soothing, reassuring…_

_She frowned upon realizing who it was. It was the voice of Roy Mustang. In her heart, she knew it wasn't him, but her head tried desperately to fabricate him and convince her that he was there. It had been happening a lot lately._

_Sometimes she would see him and hear his voice, other times she would only hear him._

_She blamed _them_ for her delusions. Their preferred method of tormenting her had been to fit her with a snug set of earmuffs and a blindfold, completely cutting off her senses of hearing and sight. Sensory deprivation. Something she knew she could handle, to an extent…_

_They had trained for it before; military interrogation drills that were meant to prepare Amestrian soldiers should they ever be taken captive. She, of course, was the only one on the team, excluding Sargent Fuery, that had taken the training seriously._

_The drill sergeants told participating military officers to make lists in their heads, to go over anything and everything they could think of; anything to keep them sane._

_So, that's exactly what she did. For the first few days, Riza had gone over her daily schedule again and again, until she was positive she had memorized every single task she would normally do on a daily basis. Next, she went over the work she had left behind on her desk. She still had to forge the signatures of one lazy General on dozens of documents pertaining to new Ishvalan reconstruction tactics._

_Then, she went over what steps it would take to teach Black Hayate how to play dead, rollover, and bow. She determined that it would take nine steps to teach him how to play dead, four steps to rollover, and six to bow. She was sure she could teach him when she got back._

_After she had run out of things to occupy her mind with, Riza began to think about everyone she had left behind. But thinking about them proved to be too dangerous for her. Soon, she realized that when she thought about them, they would eventually materialize themselves in front of her and talk to her._

_Once the blindfold and earmuffs were removed, the hallucinations would stop, but after a while, her mind had grown so accustomed to the company, that it decided to formulate them without the need to be blinded or deaf. At first it bothered her, knowing that she was speaking to apparitions; but after a while, she realized that something, even something that wasn't there, was better than nothing at all._

_Because once, when there was nothing, she remembers laughing. It started as a snicker which transitioned into a giggle, which developed into a fit of laughter. She could only remember one time she had laughed that hard._

When she and Roy were younger, he tried desperately to impress her by jumping over a large mud puddle that had formed after a rainstorm. The end result was him slipping and falling backwards into it, dousing himself in the dirt and grime. She had doubled over laughing, holding her stomach as she did so.

At first, he was embarrassed, yelling for her to stop laughing at him. But she only continued laughing, tears streaming down her face as she did. He looked so then ridiculous, sitting in that puddle of mud, covered head to toe in the brownish muck.

However, her laughter was short-lived, because moments after he had stopped protesting, she suddenly felt herself being pulled into his tight embrace. She felt her cheeks get warm. Roy Mustang, her father's fifteenth apprentice, was hugging her. Hugging her. She had never let the boy within a two foot radius of herself, and now here he was, his arms wrapped around her.

Her surprise quickly gave way to realization, which melted into anger. He was hugging her… and he was covered in mud. She tried desperately to push him away, but his embrace only tightened. It was his turn to laugh now.

After realizing that her attempts to escape his grasp were futile, she laughed with him, their voices carrying themselves through the forest. They must have looked ridiculous. Two children alone in the woods, covered completely in mud, laughing hysterically.

But she didn't care. Because she knew that as soon as they returned to her house, he would go back to being her father's studious apprentice, and she would return to being the forgotten daughter of a madman. So she let herself have this one fleeting moment of unadulterated happiness.

_Riza honestly couldn't remember what came first: the story or the laughter. Had the story triggered the laughter, or had the laughter caused her to remember the story?_

_That laughter, too, was ephemeral after she realized that she was laughing at nothing in particular. She abruptly stopped and decided that, yeah, imagining someone being there was better than nothing at all._

_Most of the time, it was Roy Mustang. Sometimes, however, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Havoc, Breda, Fuery, or Falman would "visit." Whenever Edward Elric showed up, she always looked away. _They_ had told her repeatedly that they let him escape, but something in the back of her mind told her otherwise. _They _didn't show any mercy. But there was nothing she could do at this point, so she had to take their word for it and hope that he was alive somewhere..._

_So, here Mustang was, sitting in front of her, his black eyes fixated on her. He was less than pleased._

_She found herself getting irritated at the illusion in front of her. _It_, because that was _not_ Roy Mustang, doubted her. Its eyes left hers and rested on the gun, narrowing once they did. "You can't use that," it stated matter-of-factly._

_Riza rolled her eyes at it but didn't say anything in reply. There was no sense in arguing; she'd just be quarreling with herself._

* * *

_They'd taken her again. Sat her down in a chair, bound her hands behind her back and her legs to the chair's legs. Her neck muscles had atrophied to the point where it was difficult holding her head up. One of them stood behind the chair and held her head between his hands, forcing her to look at the interrogator._

_It was _him _again. This time he wore the mask, concealing his face once again. But she knew it was him by the way he held himself._

_When her eyes met his, he frowned. He opened his mouth and said something, but she didn't hear it. She was too tired; she couldn't focus. Riza closed her eyes and tried tuning them out. She wasn't in the mood for pointless questions today._

_Something jostled her chair, forcing her to open her eyes. The Interrogator's face was inches from hers. He spoke again, implying that he had asked her the question moments before, "You didn't answer me. Have you decided?" his lips curled upward into a sinister grin._

"_No," she replied flatly._

_His smile disappeared and he stepped back, straightening himself up, his eyes still on her. The Interrogator spoke again, but she honestly didn't listen. The only words she caught were "food" and "alive."_

_The one standing behind her released her head from his grasp, causing it to lull forward. She didn't care. It would be too much effort to try and lift it anyways._

_Once they had untied her hands and ankles, the largest one, whose muscles could rival those of Major Amrstrong's, lifted her up effortlessly and began walking back toward the cramped quarters they kept her in. With every step her head bobbed back and forth, causing a wave of nausea to roll over her. Trying to keep it at bay, she rested her head against his shoulder. He didn't object, so she kept it there._

* * *

_Riza awoke with a start. She was back in that minuscule 3.5 foot by 3.5 foot room again. She didn't even remember falling asleep._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small silver tray. On it was a small loaf of bread, some crackers, and a canteen. She stared at it for a few moments, hoping to feel some sort of hunger. Instead, she only felt revulsion._

_If she ever left this place, she wondered if she would ever have an appetite again._

_If…_

_Her thoughts used to be full of "whens" and "eventuallys." __**When**__ she got out of there… Once she got out of there, she would __**eventually**__… etc., etc._

_Now, she thought only in "ifs." __**If**__ she escaped… __**if**__ she saw the light of day again… __**if**__ she would ever see her comrades again. __**If**__._

_If._

* * *

_Riza gasped, desperately trying to fill her lungs with precious air. However, once her chest expanded to a certain point, the immense pain would prevent her from inhaling further._

_They had come and taken her again, but this time there was no chair and no interrogation. Instead, two of them held her while the Armstrong counterpart drove his fist into her abdomen, again and again. On the sixth and final time, she cried out in pain. She was sure he had broken her ribs._

_When they released her arms, she crumpled to the floor, wheezing heavily, trying to catch her breath. As she struggled, the Interrogator knelt down beside her and, using index and middle fingers, gently guided her chin up so that she was looking him in the eye._

"_So," he said, "I gave you forty-eight hours to decide and since you never told me, I'm going to assume that you have opted to stay here with us." He grinned wickedly and leaned forward, his mouth next to her ear. "You're going to die here," he whispered. "Maybe not today, but soon," he promised. He slowly pulled himself up and said something to them. But she didn't hear what he said; she wasn't listening. She was too busy watching everything in her world burn._

* * *

_Riza had pulled herself into a sitting position in one of the corners of the small cell she was contained in. Every time she took a breath, a sharp, stabbing pain would shoot up her side, but she found that sitting up was infinitely better than lying now. Even now, the pain had dulled considerably, because her thoughts were elsewhere entirely._

_She looked down at the gun in her hands, rotating it and looking at every angle. It was definitely her's._

_The Interrogator's words were on repeat in her head. _You're going to die here.

_At first, she had been terrified, angry, depressed. She thought for hours about everyone she would leave behind. But now a sense of calm had rushed over her, and she no longer felt at all. It was identical to her time in Ishval. Turn off the emotions, aim, pull the trigger._

_She would be her last victim._

_As she began to lift it, a gloved hand with a familiar array set itself down on top of it. She narrowed her eyes and followed the arm it was connected to up to its owner._

_Roy Mustang peered back, a look of pure hopelessness on his face._

_She felt a ting of pain in her chest, but it quickly passed, numbing her once more._

"_Please…" the apparition begged, its eyes holding her stare, "Don't do this…"_

_Riza shook her head slowly. It was only a part of her subconscious. Deep down, she was frightened and it was here only to remind her of the most basic human fear: dying. It knew what the Interrogator had said: She'd die here._

_It begged her to reconsider._

_She said no._

_It asked her to hold on for a while longer._

_No._

_Her subconscious was losing the battle. She could see it in its eyes. Its grip on the gun was loosening._

"_What about him?" it asked quietly, using the last weapon in its arsenal._

_The question barely grazed her. The real General would forgive her. Right?_

_Right?_

_Right._

_She just had to rationalize it in her mind. If he were in a similar situation (not that she would have ever let that happen), she'd forgive him… in time._

_They had given her a chance, an opportunity to escape._

_She would die on _her_ terms… not theirs._

_She lifted the gun and pressed the muzzle to her head…_

_And pulled the trigger._

_..._

_The gun responded with a benign _click_._

_She tried again._

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

_Riza's grip on the gun loosened and it slipped from her hand, clattering to the ground uselessly. Hey eyes widened with realization._

_It was empty._

_It was weighted… and it was empty…_

_They had tricked her. Gotten her down to her lowest, weakest point and built her up her hopes of escape. Then they mercilessly dashed them._

_She _was_ going to die there… and it would be on their terms._

* * *

Roy was finally back at the hospital and couldn't be more relieved.

As he strode through the hallways, he couldn't help but recall his brief encounter with Edward.

He was thankful that the boy didn't answer. Because, honestly, he didn't even know what to say to him. And maybe it was the same for the former alchemist.

Their relationship these past few months had been rocky; all of it beginning on that day.

Roy had expected it to turn out differently. Edward had been invited there for a surprise, a celebration of everything he had done for Amestris.

Nothing turned out the way they had planned. Nothing.

He knew that he had to face Edward again.

Finally, he came upon Riza's room. As he quietly walked in, being careful to not walk too heavily, he decided internally that he would try and take the next few hours while Riza slept to come up with what he would say to the boy.

When he found his chair and pulled it up next to her bed, he fell back into it, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his raven-black hair. He looked up wearily at the clock, seeing that it was only 1:15a.m. It was going to be a long night.

He covered his face with his hands and slowly dragged his fingers down his face, sighing as he did so. When he opened his eyes, he stopped when he focused on Riza.

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

Any color that she had regained was completely gone from her now pallid face. Her eyes were moving rapidly beneath her eyelids; her breaths coming out as shallow and labored gasps.

He instinctively reached out and grabbed her hand in his, placing his free hand on her forehead. She was drenched in sweat, and her forehead was burning.

Roy looked up desperately, looking for any signs of a nurse passing by. When he didn't see one, he jumped up and raced to the door. He poked his head out and called for a nurse. Moments later, two rushed around the corner. He beckoned them into the room and expeditiously explained to them the situation.

The two nurses quickly rushed to both sides of the bed. After surveying Riza for a few moments, the one that knelt down in front of her frantically told the other to find the nearest doctor.

As the second nurse rushed out, Roy immediately dropped to his knees next to the attending nurse and grabbed Riza's hand in his own, ignoring the nurse's urging that he restrain himself.

The physical contact barely fazed her; she was trembling far too much to notice.

Suddenly, Roy heard something. Something she had murmured in her restless stupor.

He leaned closer, his ear mere inches from her mouth.

He felt the blood drain from his face. His heart practically stopped beating.

Those words… Something he never dreamed she would utter.

Those words that would haunt him for nights to come.

Those two, seemingly simple words…

_Kill me._


	10. Forgiveness

**Quick A/N: Remember, **_"text like this" _**when Roy is with Riza means that he is communicating with her via the code they invented when they were younger. **

**In response to freebird2992's question: "**you really stay loyal to the whole 'edge of your seat' writing don't you?"

**Yes. Yes I do. ;P (And thank you for the review, along with everyone else's; I just had to answer this one!) I will try to respond to reviews on here from now on. But really, thank you to everyone, because I do read them!**

* * *

Sighing, Roy tried to will away the pain, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning forward, pressing a blood soaked tissue to his nose with his free hand.

He should have learned the first time: Don't surprise Riza. Ever.

The nurses had warned him to wake Riza from her night terror slowly, but even his most cautious, snail-paced attempt wasn't enough.

As soon as he had grabbed her hand, she woke up, startled, and pulled her hand from his. In one swift motion, she managed to lash out at him, striking him in the nose with the palm of her hand.

Dr. Marcoh assured him that nothing was broken, but he wasn't concerned about himself.

The doctor explained that spikes in body temperature after surgical procedures were one of the most common complications. He noted that high fevers could disrupt the sleep cycle, causing vivid and lifelike dreams. The fact did nothing to comfort him, however. Roy was more concerned about what she had been dreaming and what had transpired through the dream. How long had she been sleeping like that? Did her nightmare start after he had left?

"I'm sorry."

He looked up upon hearing her voice, his eyes softening when he laid them on her. It was at least the sixth time she had apologized in the past couple of minutes.

Riza was sitting upright slightly, being supported by the elevated bed. She was staring down at her lap, her right arm lying across her abdomen. From this angle, he could tell just how thin she was now. He noted that her clothes hung loosely off of her body, akin to that of a child wearing an adult's clothing. The observation made him feel sick to his stomach.

He reached forward and gently took her arm in his hand, guiding her hand toward him and ignoring the flinch she responded with. He adjusted slowly and took her hand in between his. He wanted to get the point across that he was okay, because she didn't seem to believe it.

"_I'm fine. Really,"_ he tapped out in their code.

She shook her head slowly and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "I gave up."

He stopped, perplexed. _"What do you-"_

"I gave up!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking. Eyes still staring down at her lap, she took a shaky breath, trying her best to calm herself, but to no avail. "They gave me my gun. I-I was going to use it. They said I'd die there. I-"

"_Stop."_

But she kept going, babbling incoherently. Or maybe to him it was unintelligible; because his mind was racing at an unbelievable rate. He managed to catch the phrases "wasted time" and "would have been pointless."

Wasted time? Pointless? Was that what she thought? That she had been a burden? A pointless, worthless effort?

He slid off the chair and sat on the edge of her bed. Reaching behind her with his left arm, and in front of her with his right, Roy pulled her into an embrace, snapping her out of her hysteria.

"_Stop. Do not ever say you are pointless."_

She quickly recovered, though her shoulders were shaking now. "Sir-"

"_Please," _he begged, _"Stop. You are too important."_

"But, sir-"

"_I forgive you,"_ he interjected.

He knew that the only way she'd forgive herself was if he would "forgive" her. In reality, there was nothing that she had done that needed forgiveness. But if that was what she wanted, then he'd forgive her a thousand times and more. Because what she didn't realize was that she had been far stronger than he.

She fell silent when she had deciphered what he tapped on her shoulder. Leaning her body into his, she rested her head on his shoulder and beneath his jaw, murmuring one last time, "I'm sorry."

No. _He _was sorry. Roy remembered when he had given up. He still sought forgiveness.

But he also remembered being saved. Saved from the darkest corners of his mind.

Like her, he had been saved by the Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

"Brigadier General Mustang?"

Roy slowly opened his eyes and immediately turned his head to the right, seeing Riza's bed a few feet from his cot.

Shortly after their conversation, she had fallen asleep in his arms. He didn't mind… but the nurses did. After one of them came in for the next round of medications, she scolded him for allowing Riza to remain upright for so long. A brief argument ensued, the subject matter consisting of him letting Riza lie down and about whether or not he would go home. They compromised, allowing him to stay the remainder of the night.

His eyes focused on Riza. She was on her back, her right arm lightly placed atop her abdomen. Her breathing was more regulated now; her breaths long and deep. It appeared that, for the moment, she was at peace. No more nightmares.

"Sir?"

He jumped, unaware of the nurse standing to his left. Had she been the one that woke him up? He turned slightly and tore his stare away from Riza to focus on the woman.

"Sorry to wake you, sir, but you have a phone call."

_Phone call? _He watched her, slightly annoyed, waiting for her to elaborate further.

"It's urgent, sir," the nurse followed up quickly. "From a Lieutenant Colonel Rodin."

"Alright, thank you," he replied, slowly lowering his feet to the ground and turning his focus back on Riza. She was still sleeping.

Reluctantly, he stood and allowed the nurse to usher him to the door. After her countless reassurances that she would be there while he was gone, he finally stepped into the hallway and let her escort him to the nearest phone. Once she had gestured to the correct phone, he watched as she quickly whirled around and disappeared around the corner, heading back in the direction they had come.

He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

"_Hello, General,"_ Rodin responded quickly.

Roy frowned, noting that for once the Lieutenant Colonel had remembered his formalities.

"_I won't be able to talk long, but I wanted to give you an update,"_ the Lieutenant Colonel continued. _"I'm calling from a train line. We're heading back to Central and-."_

"What?!" Roy interjected, his response harsh.

"_I tried calling you earlier, sir, but I couldn't get ahold of the hospital. I received a memo this morning stating that I need to be back in Central tomorrow for a meeting and, unfortunately, the only train leaving between now and then was this one._

"_We just stopped at the Resembool station, so we should be arriving in Central in about seven hours."_

"I thought this case took precedence, Lieutenant Colonel," Roy growled through his clenched teeth.

"_It does, sir, and right now being back in Central is the best we can do right now. The sandstorm that picked up yesterday still hasn't died down, so we wouldn't have been able to go out today even if we wanted to._

"_We collected most of what we wanted yesterday, so my team and I will analyze it once we get back to Central._

"_I know that this isn't what you wanted to hear, General Mustang, but I do plan on making the most out of this situation. For example, is Edward Elric there in Central?"_

"Yes," the General shot back. "Why?"

"_I need to speak with him again. He was the only one that potentially saw our suspects, and I need to see if he recalls any more details," _Rodin replied quietly, sensing the General's displeasure.

"You already got his statement ten weeks ago. Do you honestly believe that he would remember anything else after all this time," Roy stated bitterly.

"_I think he could, sir."_

"Fine," Roy replied shortly. Despite his anger, he knew that what was done was done. They were already on the train and heading back. "Let me know as soon as you arrive."

"_Yes, sir," _the Lieutenant Colonel responded submissively.

Without another word, the General slammed the receiver down and turned away from the phone. Sure, he knew that what was done was done, but he was still allowed the right to be upset. As far as he was concerned, every moment that passed allowed the perpetrators another moment to flee, hide, or do more harm. The "evidence" that Rodin would present him had better justify his actions…

When he rounded the corner, he saw the same nurse that woke him quietly beckoning him toward her.

Heart racing, he rushed forward and to her side.

Seeing his look of concern, she shook her head gently and shot him a small smile. "I just wanted to let you know that I finished everything I needed to do."

He nodded and thanked her, calming his rapidly beating heart.

She smiled once last time before stepping around him and walking away from him and down the hall.

He turned back and stepped through the doorframe, making a beeline for his seat next to Riza's bedside, which he was convinced already have a permanent indentation from him already.

As soon as he slid into his seat, she opened her eyes and furrowed her brow. She still couldn't see him.

He took her hand in his and felt her usual flinch. Slowly he tapped out a quick "good morning," instantly putting her at ease. _"Are you in pain?"_ he followed up.

She shook her head slowly and asked about his nose.

He smiled slightly as he informed her that he was feeling better, when in reality his nose and cheeks were bruised. But she didn't need to know those "minor" details.

He quickly followed up by tapping out small updates on their team members, trying to keep her mind off of anything that would distress her.

Roy told her about Havoc and his eleventh attempt to quit smoking. He told her about how Breda and how he had finally beaten Roy in a game of chess. Falman had memorized every detail of the plans laid out for the rebuilding, and Fuery and Sheska were "talking."

She seemed happy about the update, but Roy still noticed that something was bothering her.

Before he had the chance to ask, however, she spoke, "And Edward…"

Roy was taken aback by her comment, but quickly recovered. _Why Edward? Oh... he was the last person she saw._ He should have started his update with the boy.

"_He is fine," _Mustang simply replied. He knew that if he told her that the boy had stayed in Ishval and left his brother behind in Resembool, she'd feel guilty for separating the two. She shouldn't have to add that to her list of worries.

Thankfully she didn't ask, instead replying with a small nod.

Soon after that she fell asleep, leaving Roy alone with his thoughts. He knew exactly what he would say to the boy when he saw him next. But first, he decided, he would sit through Edward's second report.

He needed to hear it for himself.

"General?"

Roy opened his eyes partly and glanced to his right, realizing that he had fallen asleep in his chair.

The nurse smiled and gave him a small wave. "Sir, there is a Lieutenant Colonel Rodin here to see you."

His eyes shot open and he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 5:00p.m. He had slept at least four hours. As he stood and stretched, he glanced at Riza, noting that she was still sleeping. He'd make this conversation with the Colonel short.

After following the nurse out of the room, Roy turned down a few hallways and finally came upon the waiting area. He instantly saw Rodin… and his entourage.

Standing to the right of the Lieutenant Colonel was Lieutenant Falman. Upon seeing his superior officer, the gray-haired man nodded and saluted. Roy threw the Lieutenant a sloppy salute; because he was too busy eyeing the person to the left of Rodin.

Winry Rockbell stood beside the Lieutenant Colonel, a large red duffel bag tossed over her shoulder and a smaller, black one sitting next to her. If Roy hadn't done a double-take, he almost wouldn't have recognized the girl. Her hair, normally thrown up in a ponytail, was down, cascading over her shoulders and back. Since he had last seen her she had grown a couple of inches as well, though her growth spurt was nothing compared to Edward's. Her blue eyes were watching him, studying him.

Why was she there?

Colonel Rodin stepped forward and saluted Roy, his usually happy demeanor masked by his look of concern. "Are you alright, sir?" he asked, reaching up and touching his own face, mirroring Mustang's.

Roy suddenly remembered that half of his face was one large bruise. Reaching up and rubbing his cheek, he murmured, "Yes. Just a small accident."

Seeming to accept the General's brief explanation, the Lieutenant Colonel continued, "I hope you don't mind, sir, but I brought Miss Rockbell along," he gestured to the girl standing just behind him. "Coincidentally she was on the same train as us and she recognized Lieutenant Falman. Since we were all heading in the same direction, we gave her a ride."

Roy nodded and glanced at Winry. "Hello Miss Rockbell. I'm assuming you're looking for Edward?"

Winry slowly nodded in reply, her blue eyes watching the General intently. "Is he here?"

"Unfortunately, he's not," Roy replied shortly.

"Oh… okay," she responded, casting her eyes downward.

Upon seeing her look of disappointment, he changed his tone, his words softer. "You're here to fix his automail leg," he nodded toward the black duffel bag next to her. "I can take you to him."

She looked up. "A-are you sure?" She raised her hands slightly and waved them back and forth, "If it's too much trouble, I can come back later. Or I can-"

"It's fine," Roy cut in, trying his best to flash her a small, sincere smile. "He's having some trouble moving around, so I'm sure he'd be eager to have you look at it." He turned to Lieutenant Colonel Rodin, "I'll be right back; I'm just going to grab a few things."

After Roy had turned and made it to the doorframe separating the waiting area with the rest of the hospital, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face Rodin.

"Sir, I'm going to need to speak with Edward tonight. That meeting I have tomorrow is with my advisor. It would be nice to have everything laid out for him tomorrow; this second statement would be a great addition to the evidence I have."

"Understood," Roy responded. He hoped that Edward had pulled himself together enough to give the statement, but regardless, there wasn't much time. It had to be tonight.

"Is there anything you need from me?" Roy asked.

The Lieutenant Colonel shook his head. "No. And while a statement from Lieutenant Hawkeye would be invaluable, I know that in her condition it is going to be a while before I get one."

Roy raised his eyebrows. How did he know about her condition? He didn't remember telling the man anything.

As if he had read the General's mind, the Lieutenant Colonel answered, "I talked to one of the attending physicians earlier before I spoke with you. I figured you wouldn't be up to providing details, so I went ahead and asked the doctor himself."

That made sense.

"Alright. I'll be back."

Roy knelt down next to Riza's bed and gently took her hand in his.

She opened her eyes wearily and stared toward him.

"_I have to leave for a little while," _he explained. _"I promise I will be back soon."_

She nodded indolently, trying her best to keep her eyes open. Roy noted that the additional sleep medication Dr. Marcoh had prescribed was probably the culprit. She'd probably sleep the entire time he was gone. At least she would be too tired to have nightmares.

He waited until she closed her eyes again. When she did, he quietly gathered his things and made his way to the door. He cast one final glance over his shoulder toward her before walking through it and down the hallway.

* * *

Edward had finally come to terms with the fact that he and Mustang were going to talk. It was inevitable.

After coming to that conclusion, Edward allowed himself to" relax," to an extent, even going as far as making himself some canned soup he had found in one of the cupboards; though he quickly cleaned up the evidence that he had even been in the kitchen.

Now he was sitting on the couch, trying to focus on the book in his lap. Even though he had convinced himself that he was relaxed, he still nervously bounced his knee up and down, moving the book along with it.

He had run over a plethora of situations in his head that ranged from the two talking civilly to Mustang simply walking through the door, snapping his fingers, and setting Edward on fire. He sometimes found himself thinking that the latter option would be less painful.

Sure, he had come to terms with it, but that didn't mean he was ready. He would never be prepared. Because he would never be ready to look Mustang straight in the eyes and tell him that he had screwed up, almost costing the man everything that he held dear.

Edward couldn't ask for forgiveness, not now; because he never once felt that he deserved it.

The sound of keys in the door's lock jolted him from his thoughts. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly closed the book in his lap.

He wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready!

Edward flinched as the door swung open, revealing not one, but three silhouettes.

Yes, Edward had finally come to terms with the fact that he and Mustang were going to talk. What he didn't anticipate, however, was having an audience.

* * *

**A/N: For some reason this chapter was difficult for me to write! I think it's because I wanted to write "Simple Orders" (the next chapter) more than this one. So I hope it wasn't too scattered or fast-paced and I hope that the quality of writing is still there (please let me know if it isn't).**


	11. Simple Orders

He didn't want to talk.

Not with an audience. Not with _Mustang_ there.

But they needed another report by tomorrow…

Winry had scooted over next to him on the couch and had taken his hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. Her small, comforting smile eased the unbearable tension in his chest.

He had no choice.

He needed to talk again. To tell them what happened.

To tell them about his failure.

* * *

_Edward sat idly as the train rattled onward, watching as the landscape slowly transitioned from one filled with green, lush trees to a barren and sandy one. He could already feel his automail beginning to warm up. The blisters that would soon follow from the constant metal-on-skin contact were inevitable. And, of course, the region was currently in a state of drought, with temperatures reported near 115 degrees Fahrenheit the past few weeks, and there were no signs of it decreasing anytime soon._

_He could feel his mood souring by the second._

_Why did he even need to _go_ in the first place? It's not like he was important to the rebuilding of Ishval._

_For the past two months, Colonel Bastard – oh wait, _General Bastard _– had been nagging for him to go out there. Something about diplomatic relations or whatever. Finally Edward gave in to his constant haranguing. The sooner he could get the trip over with, the sooner he could go home to Alphonse and Winry and Granny. And the sooner he could leave Mustang and the military behind._

_He patted his pocket, confirming for the eleventh time that the papers were still there._

_His letters of resignation._

_In a few short days, he would no longer be a dog of the military. He'd finally be free to live his life without worrying about being called to duty again._

_Underneath it all, however, Edward knew his ulterior motive for leaving the military._

_After he had caught wind that Mustang had used a Philosopher's Stone to regain his sight, he was livid. What right did he have to use all of those souls, all of those lives, for his gain? Apparently Dr. Marcoh had offered it to him on the condition that Mustang help rebuild Ishval._

_Deep down Edward knew that what was done was done. Mustang used a Philosopher's Stone to regain his sight. He could see again. He was in Ishval now. What was done was done._

_Still, Edward couldn't help but feel bitter. He and Al had spent _years_ trying to find ways to restore their bodies… and they hadn't even used a Philosopher's Stone to do so. Sure, he had been forced, but there had to be another way. Using the Philosopher's Stone without even spending an iota of time searching for other options was what really pushed him over the edge._

_Edward pushed the thoughts out of his head. He didn't want to think about it anymore._

_Just endure two days there and he could go home._

_All Edward knew was that his leg was beginning to hurt. He did _not _want to leave Al. He did _not _want to go to Ishval._

_And more than anything, he did _NOT _want to see Mustang._

* * *

_As soon as Edward stepped off the train, he heard his name shouted out. Turning toward the source of the noise, he saw Mustang, a slight smirk on his face, and Hawkeye standing just a few hundred meters away._

_Both of them were there. Just like Mustang had said they would be._

_As Edward neared them, a small voice in the back of his head encouraged him to tell Mustang to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face, but he quickly pushed it away._

_Just two days and it'd be over._

_After the three had exchanged pleasantries they began making their way through the small town of Turlorn. As they walked, Edward realized that there really wasn't too much to the town. It had maybe one thousand people tops. A far cry from the populous Central City._

_Mustang would occasionally point out a landmark or building and explain its significance or excitedly mention what their plans were for it. So far, there were plans to renovate a glassmaking factory, revitalize the suffering wheat growing industry, and rebuild countless temples that were destroyed during the Ishvalan war._

_A few other plans were mentioned as they continued to walk, but Edward soon found himself not paying any attention to the older man. Instead, his focus was on his aching leg; he had realized that he was limping._

_The ever observant Hawk's Eye noticed as well. He could feel her concerned eyes on him._

_Not feeling overly explanatory today, Edward kept his eyes focused forward and slightly downturned, staring at the ground ahead of him. _Just two more days…

* * *

_Once they had reached Mustang's modest, and extremely stuffy, office Edward slumped into the closest chair he could find, stretching his legs out as far as he could. If he didn't move from that spot for the next forty-eight hours, he'd be happy._

_At that moment, it was just Mustang and him in the room. Hawkeye had run downstairs to pick up something the bastard had requested. Like always._

_He scanned the office, noticing that there were only four desks instead of the usual six that Mustang always had. He had forgotten that Breda was still in the West while Falman was still stationed in the North. Two of the desks, at that time empty, most likely belonged to Fuery and the recently reinstated Havoc._

_He secretly hoped that he would see them the next day. Unlike Mustang, he admittedly, and ever so slightly, missed them._

_Edward was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name. Looking up, he saw that Mustang's dark eyes were on him._

"_Did you hear me?" the General asked, a tinge of irritation in his voice._

"_Sorry," Edward mumbled, "I missed it."_

"_I asked that you accompany Lieutenant Hawkeye for a mail drop."_

_Edward remembered passing the post office a few minutes before they had arrived at the military headquarters. That meant going back out into that blazing heat. _Damn…

_Why did he even need to go? Hawkeye always did mail drops alone in Central. What was the big deal? And why couldn't the bastard just go?_

_As if Mustang had read his mind, the man gestured to the stack of papers in front of him and continued, "I have to get these papers in by five and I can't go."_

_Just as Edward opened his mouth to ask why he going was even necessary, Mustang bluntly answered his question, his eyes now focused on the paper in his hand, "It's required that all military personnel remain in pairs of two or more for security reasons."_

_Security? Yeah, like Hawkeye even _needed_ a bodyguard. But whatever…_

"_And afterwards," Mustang looked up again at the boy, "I thought it'd be nice if we grabbed some dinner. There's a small restaurant around the corner."_

_Edward shrugged. "Yeah, sure," he replied halfheartedly._

"_And while we're there, I would like to discuss your future endeavors regarding your military status."_

_Edward felt a pang of annoyance, but said nothing. No matter what Mustang would say, he wouldn't change his mind. He was going to leave the military behind and that was final. But hell, he'll humor the bastard for a couple of days._

_Seeming to (finally) notice the boy's lack of enthusiasm, Mustang lowered his voice, his tone serious, "I mean it Edward. You are to remain with Lieutenant Hawkeye at all times. That's an order."_

_Oh! So now he was ordering him around again. Edward could feel his agitation bubbling toward the surface, threatening to spill over the edge. He resisted the urge to make a snarky comment back, instead opting to shrug again, "Yeah, yeah; I know. Simple orders."_

_Just as Mustang opened his mouth to reply, Hawkeye reappeared in the doorframe, carrying a small package and a couple of letters in her hands._

_Edward quickly jumped off of the couch and made his way over to her, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he went, grasping the folded up papers in one of his hands._

_She flashed a small smile toward the boy before looking past him at Mustang. "Anything else, sir?"_

"_No," the General shook his head before letting his eyes wander to and meet Edward's. "Just simple orders."_

* * *

_As Edward and Hawkeye made their way to the post office, Edward couldn't help but notice the variety of people that greeted them. Some people smiled and saluted. Others gave them a small wave or a friendly 'hello.' And each time Hawkeye would respond with a small nod, a light wave, or a 'hello' back to them._

_Yeah. Safety was a _real_ issue here. Mustang was just paranoid._

_After a few more moments of walking in silence, Edward noticed that Hawkeye had begun to slow her pace, matching her stride with his._

_When the pair was walking side by side, Hawkeye shot him a look of concern. "Are you alright, Edward?"_

"_Yeah, I'm fine," he replied shortly. In reality, he wasn't. The hot pain on his thigh had become almost unbearable. He could feel his skin developing fever blisters. He just wanted to get this mail drop over with so they could go back._

_She nodded, probably deciding that it was best to not probe the young boy further._

_Soon, though, she broke the silence again. Keeping her eyes forward, she continued, "Edward, I know you aren't happy about the General's decision regarding the Stone, but please understand_why _he did it."_

_He felt a sharp jab of annoyance. She was just trying to justify that bastard's actions. Couldn't she just think for herself for once?_

"_Please understand that-"_

"_Yeah, I get it," he replied sharply as another burst of pain shot through his left leg. "I really don't want to talk about it."_

_If she showed any signs of hurt or surprise, it passed too quickly for Edward to notice. On one hand, he was relieved. Maybe he hadn't been too harsh? On the other hand, however, he felt slightly agitated. _Could she for once show on her face what she's thinking or feeling?

_They continued walking for a few more minutes, each step becoming more agitating and painfully reminding Edward of the large hunk of metal mounted on his leg. When the hell were they going to get there?_

_As if his thoughts were answered, Hawkeye suddenly stopped under a canopy they had been walking under. The temperature underneath it was at least ten degrees cooler, just slightly alleviating the pain in Edward's left leg._

_Hawkeye gestured to the storefront they stood in front of. "Well, here we are," she noted as she began to reach for the door handle. However, upon realizing Edward was not following, she turned and eyed the boy._

"_I think I'm just going to stick around out here," he said, replying to her gaze._

"_Edward-"_

"_I'm fine, Hawkeye," he replied bluntly._

_Upon seeing her concern, he quickly changed his tone, trying his best to cover any hint of pain or annoyance. "My leg's just acting up and I really need to sit down." That was partially the truth._

_Edward leaned against the wall and slowly slid down it until he was seated on the ground. Looking back up at her, he said, "I'll just be right here." He didn't waiver; holding firm in his decision._

_She sighed before turning back toward the door. "Alright. Please remain here."_

Hah. Easy enough.

_He nodded in reply as she entered the post office and went to stand in line._

_After a few minutes passed, Edward peered in through the windows, noticing that Hawkeye had only advanced two places in the line. This was taking forever._

_Edward slumped against the wall, raising his left leg slightly, and easing the pain he was beginning to feel again._

_Suddenly, Edward heard a loud _pop_ followed by screaming and cheering. He turned toward a nearby alleyway and saw a large crowd that had gathered at the end of it._

_Rotating back to the storefront, he noticed that no one, not even Hawkeye, had paid any heed to the noise._

_Ignoring the pain in his leg, Edward advanced down the narrow alleyway, deciding to briefly investigate. It would just take one minute._

_After all, one minute wouldn't kill her._

* * *

_Upon exiting the alleyway, Edward found himself immersed in a crowd of excited, cheering Ishvalans. He slowly made his way through the crowd until he made it to the front. A steady stream of colorfully decorated Isvhalans were dancing past, waving lanterns and setting off poppers._

_Most likely seeing Edward's perplexed expression, the man next to him turned and smiled, speaking loudly over the noise, "It's our festival to celebrate the rebirth of Ishval!"_

_Edward nodded and turned back to the parade, a feeling of awe swelling inside of him. Despite everything that had happened to them, the Ishvalan people were still so hopeful and full of life. It was incredible…_

_Suddenly, a young girl, no older than eight or nine years old, separated herself from the parade and danced over to Edward, taking his hand in hers and pulling him into the stream of people. Once they had made it to the center of the road, she grabbed his other hand in hers and began dancing in a circle and smiling. He shot her a grin back and followed her lead, spinning along with her. He could hear the crowd hooting and cheering around them as they made their way down the road._

_After spinning for another one hundred feet or so, the young girl navigated them back to the side of the road and near the crowd. She let go and excitedly thanked him, pulling one of the beaded necklaces from around her neck and offering it to him. He took it from her and nodded appreciatively, flashing her a small smile. She grinned back before skipping a few rows down and pulling another young girl from the crowd and repeating the process._

_He watched after them for a few moments. Yeah… the Ishvalan people were incredible._

_He quickly snapped back from his thoughts, however, when he realized that he needed to be back at the post office. Pushing his way through the crowd, Edward found the alleyway and darted down it, ignoring the pain in his automail leg._

* * *

_Edward hurriedly made his way back to the post office, only to find that Hawkeye was no longer there._

Great. She's probably halfway to the military headquarters by now. _Mustang was going to have a fit._

_Still, as he sauntered back toward the headquarters, making sure to take his time, he glanced around into shop windows and small alleyways, hoping to catch sight of the blonde Lieutenant. It shouldn't be too hard; the streets were empty now that the festival was in full swing just a few streets over._

_Up ahead of him, he saw a flash of navy blue disappear into one of the narrower alleys._

_Hoping to catch up to it, Edward sprinted to and dashed around the corner, only to be knocked to the ground after slamming into something large and hard._

_As he mumbled an apology, Edward raised his eyes to see who, or what, he had run into. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end._

_A mountain of a man stood in front of him, his massive arms crossed over his chest. An assortment of scars crisscrossed his face and bald head, but two of them stood out to Edward immediately: Two battered, ugly scars ran from the corners of his mouth to his ears, giving his lips a Cheshire grin.*_

_A strong urge to run pulsed through Edward, but his limbs had suddenly felt as if they had turned to jelly._

_Something was off._

_This man was dangerous._

_No doubt sensing Edward's fear, the goliath narrowed his small, black eyes and sneered. "What the hell are you looking at?" he gnarled._

"_Sorry," Edward replied apologetically. "I'm just looking for someone and I saw your navy shirt, so I thought that-"_

_The man grimaced, "Looking for an Amestrian dog," he spat, referring to the navy uniforms members of the military wore. "Well, you're shit out of luck, 'cause there ain't any here."_

_Edward quickly scrambled to his feet and backed a few steps away, "Okay, thanks," he replied quickly._

_The man took a step threateningly toward Edward before stopping and turning to look down the alleyway behind him, hearing the _slam _of a car door nearby. The goliath grunted and turned back to Edward, the sneer returning to his face. "Best you run along now, _runt_. Wouldn't want to miss your little girl friend, now would ya?"_

"_Right…" Edward took another step back, sizing up the man. That was definitely one fight he couldn't win. Luckily, it appeared that the man was more interested in what was going on behind him. So he'd take his advice and go. "Thanks…"_

_Turning away from the behemoth, Edward dashed out of the alleyway, leaving the now cackling man behind._

_As he sprinted down the street, he frantically looked through every window and down every side street he ran past._

_Nothing._

_No blonde hair. No navy uniform._

_Nothing._

_He slowed as he came upon the military headquarters. He'd report the man he saw to Mustang and Hawkeye once he saw them inside… because they'd __**both**__ be inside._

_As he reached the door and extended his arm to grasp the handle, he stopped, feeling the blood drain from his face upon realizing something that he had dismissed before._

_He hadn't mentioned to the man that he person he was looking for was a woman._

* * *

_Edward raced down the hallway toward Mustang's office, his pace quickening with each step. She'd be there._

_She'd be there at her desk and Mustang would be at his. With that stupid look of disapproval on his face. But they'd be there together, nonetheless; like they always were._

_When he turned the corner into Mustang's office, however, she was not there._

_Mustang looked up from his paperwork upon hearing Edward enter, glanced at the clock on the wall, and then eyed Edward curiously. "You two are back early. Are you ready to-"_

"_Is Hawkeye here," Edward cut him off._

_Mustang shot him a confused look, "What do you-"_

"_Look, we got separated at the post office and when I got back she wasn't there. So I looked around for a bit and came back here, since she'd be here and-"_

"_No." It was Mustang's turn to interrupt him. The Flame Alchemist narrowed his eyes and stated bluntly, "She's not here."_

* * *

Edward didn't have to describe what happened after that. Because Mustang already knew.

They had gone up to her room and knocked on the door; but, of course, there was no reply.

Mustang had even fished a solidary key from his pocket and used that to open the door.

Nothing. No one was there, save for Black Hayate.

Gone.

Just like that.

* * *

Edward didn't need to look up to know that Mustang's midnight eyes were on him. He could feel his cold, ruthless stare boring holes in him, threatening to tear through him at any instant. That icy stare had never once left him when he told his tale.

He was waiting for Mustang to lose it. Yell at him, scream; disintegrate him in a waterfall of flame.

Instead, much to his surprise and everyone else's, the Flame Alchemist simply rose and shot the former alchemist one last, chilly look before turning away and exiting the apartment, slamming the door behind him.


	12. Gone

**A/N: So I felt like I kind of rushed the end of "Simple Orders," so I've done a quick rewrite of it at the beginning of this chapter (with a few more details)**

* * *

Edward's story slowly tapered off once he had recounted encountering Mustang in his office. He didn't need to say anymore. Mustang already knew what had happened.

He knew that they had gone up to Hawkeye's room and received no reply when they knocked.

He knew that when they opened the door, the only being to greet them was Black Hayate.

And he certainly knew that their efforts at finding her had been fruitless. Because even after banding together with Havoc, Fuery, and a few other military members, there had been no sign of her or the mysterious behemoth Edward had encountered…

By now, the silence in that room was deafening; not a single word had been uttered during Edward's recounting of that day's events. But he could feel their eyes on him. Stares mixed with concern and shock and disbelief.

One set of dark onyx eyes; however, he could feel boring into him. He had almost become accustomed to those ruthless, unforgiving stares.

His eyes rose to meet those and for a few brief moments, there was nothing. No emotion. No words. No breathing. Nothing.

Their gaze was broken when Mustang slowly rose to his feet. Without wavering or even acknowledging that there were others still present in the room, he shot one last, downward look at Edward before turning and opening the door, slamming it behind him.

Almost immediately Edward was at his feet. As he moved toward the door, he was stopped by a tug at his sleeve. Winry's concerned blue eyes gazed into his, begging him to wait. "Ed…"

"I'll be right back," Edward replied hollowly as he pulled away from her grasp. When he made it to the door, he quietly slipped out and closed it behind him.

Roy stopped at the sound of the door creaking closed.

"Mustang, wait-"

"I've heard _enough_, Edward," the General snapped as he glared over his shoulder.

Edward balled his hands into fists. No. Regardless of what Mustang said, he needed to know.

"Just say it," Edward responded after mustering up the courage.

"Say what," the General replied bitterly.

"That I screwed up!" Edward exclaimed as he took a small step forward. "That I couldn't follow the simplest of orders! That you hate me! Just say it, Mustang, because-"

"Hate you? Ha! Don't think you even think for one second that I hate you, Edward," the General turned his gaze back down the hallway that lay before him. "I don't feel loathing or hatred toward you. More than anything, I feel disappointment… Because I thought better of you."

Edward stopped his quiet advancement toward the older man, suddenly feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

Disappointment…

It hurt.

It hurt worse than feeling hated or loathed. Because they had expected something of him and he had let them all down. They had given everything to him: friendship, loyalty, family, love…

He shattered it. Broken it into millions of infinitesimal pieces, with little to no hope of ever putting it back together.

They gave it to him… and this was how he repaid them…

"I'm officially taking you off of this case," the General continued without even giving Edward another glance. "You are to return home to Resembool... And _that_ is an order. Think you can follow it?" Mustang challenged him venomously.

It was then that Edward realized there wasn't anything he could say or do that would change the General's mind. This was it. It was all over…

All he could do now was follow this simple order. It was the very least he could do.

"Okay…" he replied dejectedly.

"Good. Then I will expect you to be gone when I return." And with that the General was gone, vanishing down the hallway without a second glance.

Gone from Edward's sight. Gone from his senses. And now… gone from his life.

Edward turned numbly on his heels and slowly pulled the door to Mustang's apartment open. Inside, the Lieutenant Colonel and Winry were eyeing him cautiously.

Without acknowledging them, he shuffled over to the sofa and grabbed his suitcase, throwing any of his items that were within reach into it.

"Thank you for resubmitting your statement," Rodin quietly spoke.

Edward could feel his eyes on him. _Stop… Just stop!_

"No problem," he replied in a hollow tone. "If you need anything else, just contact me in Resembool."

"Sure, Ed," the Lieutenant Colonel nodded slowly and stood, lingering for a few moments, as if he expected the former alchemist to say something else. When he didn't, Rodin graciously nodded at Winry and softly muttered, "It was nice meeting you," before he grabbed his notepad and silently slipped out of the apartment.

Now it was just Edward and Winry. Allowing the awkward silence to drag on, Edward continued to grab his belongings, stuffing them into any space he could find in his suitcase. The sooner he packed, the sooner they could leave. And the sooner he would be back in Resembool. Because isn't that what he wanted in the first place?

Sure, that's what he had nearly three months ago wanted, but not now. Not on terms like these…

"Ed…" Winry spoke, trying to get his attention. "Are you really coming back home?"

He turned to Winry and tried desperately to smile. He couldn't burden her with his guilt. It wasn't fair… "Yeah… It looks like I am…"

Winry slid off the couch and onto her knees in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck in one fluid movement.

His shoulders slumped, but he didn't resist. The physical contact… the comfort that she provided was soothing, fighting to quell the demons of guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach. He let his head nod forward onto her shoulder. Even if it was just for one moment… That one moment was all he needed to keep him from cracking.

"Is this really what you want, Ed," she murmured in his ear, finally breaking the silence.

He didn't respond at first, opting to let the resulting silence drag on further. No, it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to stay, to make amends, to make things better. But he knew that he couldn't. There was no longer anything he could do.

"Yeah," he finally replied. "Let's… let's go home."

* * *

The next week was one that Roy would later describe as an "off week."

Despite having a plethora of information, Lieutenant Colonel Rodin was unable to find anymore leads. Obviously frustrated, and slightly disheartened by this, the Colonel embarked for Turlorn once more, hoping to dig _something _up. But with how much time had passed, it seemed that even he had begun to give up on finding anything.

Roy felt like they had reached a dead end. As much as he wanted them to, things were not getting any better.

Despite the best efforts of Dr. Marcoh, the nurses, and Roy, Riza was not putting on any weight. In fact, over the course of that week, she had somehow managed to lose two pounds. Two pounds she could not afford to lose.

Dr. Marcoh said that it sometimes happens. Her body had been without nourishment for a while, so it would take time to readjust.

But why her? Hadn't she been through enough?

Roy knew that she was trying. Even though she told him she wasn't hungry, she'd try to keep anything they gave her down, though it proved to be difficult. More often than not, she would become ill after even attempting to try what they gave her.

And he knew that she was growing frustrated with herself; frustrated that once menial tasks, such as walking or eating, were laborious.

Roy too found himself disheartened. Not with her, though. Never with her. He was frustrated with himself. Despite staying there and helping with everything he possibly could, he still didn't feel like he was doing enough. Selfish as it was, he wanted to see improvement, to know that her efforts and his were not in vain. But more than anything, he wanted to see that beautiful, rare Riza Hawkeye smile.

It almost seemed like he would never see that smile again.

Because at the end of a long, tumultuous day, when Roy thought that there had been some improvement, she'd slip again after falling asleep.

It was the same thing every night. Shortly after falling asleep, she'd begin to toss and turn more frequently, muttering something under her breath. It would quickly escalate, however, into fits of screaming and crying out, oftentimes begging her invisible aggressors to stop.

As much as he hated to admit it, Roy had gotten accustomed to dealing with these outbursts. He knew how to slowly coax her out of her sleep, successfully avoiding a bruised or broken nose each time. Knew exactly how to hold her when she'd launch herself into his arms. And knew exactly what to do when she'd begin to apologize profusely for waking him, trembling as she did so.

Every time he would secretly pray that she'd remember enough of the nightmare to tell him. But unfortunately, for whatever reason, she could never recall it. He knew enough to never pry; for fear that it would set her back further. So instead of offering comfort in the form of coded messages, he'd remain there for the rest of the night, holding her until she fell asleep again. Because never once after he began holding her did she have her outbursts or fits again.

And if that was all that was needed to chase the nightmares away, then he'd do it for as long as it took.

* * *

After being encouraged over and over again by the hospital staff, Roy begrudgingly went home in order to take a proper shower (rather than using the one in the locker rooms at the hospital) and to get a few fresh pairs of clothes.

Upon opening the door to his apartment, he felt a strange aura shrouding the room. It brought him back to that day over a week ago. What had transpired there. His feelings of anger, hurt, and disappointment flooded his mind once more.

He had thought about it constantly while sitting idly as the nurses did their rounds in Riza's room. The more the thought about it, the more he justified it, deciding that it was the right thing to do. He couldn't keep Edward there any longer. He could tell that the guilt was eating away at the boy. And despite the small, hateful voice in the back of his mind that urged him to continue feeding on the boy's despair, Roy knew that it would only cause hardship for the two of them.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder about how the boy was doing. He hoped that he was reconnecting with his younger brother, Alphonse, after being gone for nearly three months. That was something that Roy allowed himself to feel guilt for. He realized now that he had robbed the brothers of three precious months they could have spent enjoying each other's company in the bodies that they had restored together.

This was better for both of them. They needed this time now to focus on what matters most.

As Roy prepared himself to leave and make his way back to the hospital, he saw the glint of something metallic underneath his couch. Curious as to what it was, he got on his hands and knees and reached under the couch, grasping the object in his hand. After pulling it out, Roy stuffed his other hand into his pocket to confirm that his nearly identical piece was still there. Once he had confirmed that the found object was not his, he felt his hardened eyes soften.

Honestly, Roy had forgotten that he never took the boy's pocket watch after he lost his alchemical abilities. It never seemed that important to take it. To the boy, it was more than just a symbol of military status; it was the object that signified his years of hard work and dedication.

Roy decided that it wouldn't sit well if he ignored it, pretending he didn't have it. Without another thought about the matter, Roy found himself at his phone, mechanically tapping in the phone number to the Rockbell residence. After ringing four times, however, it appeared that no one was home.

Just as Roy was about to hang up, a small _click _on the other end of the line confirmed that someone had picked up. "Hello?"

"Alphonse? This is General Mustang."

"Oh," the younger Elric replied, "Hi General! It's nice hearing from you."

"Thank you, Alphonse. It's nice hearing from you as well," Roy couldn't help but smile slightly. It was still odd not hearing a metallic echo accompanying the boy's voice. "Could I speak with Edward?"

"Oh, um," Alphonse began, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "He…" his voice trailed off.

"He what?" Roy continued, a feeling of panic rising within him.

"He's… not here."

"Not there? What do you mean he's not there?" The panic began to escalate, but he held his composure, hoping that the following explanation would be a simple one.

"Well…" the younger Elric brother began slowly, "Brother never made it back home."


	13. Determined Flame

Roy stood in front of the oak door of the apartment he had once frequented quite often; now, regrettably, he had only been a few times in the past year. After tapping against the door with his fist he waited, listening for any movement inside.

After he had "lightly" interrogated Alphonse over the phone, his conversation with the boy had led him here. Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised.

A few moments later he heard the pitter-patter of a small pair of feet, followed by a quiet "I'm coming" and a pair of footsteps he assumed belonged to a certain blonde-haired girl.

When the door opened, a flash of a green and yellow dress bolted out of the door, tackling Roy's legs.

Looking up at the man, the brown-haired, green-eyed girl flashed him a wide, toothy grin. "Hiya Uncle Roy! Did you come to visit me?"

"Hello Elicia," Roy smiled as he knelt down and gave the girl a proper hug. "Why wouldn't I come visit you? Have you gotten taller?"

The little girl leapt back from his hug and stood on her tiptoes, beaming. "I did! Mommy said I grew three inches," she exclaimed as she held up three fingers.

"Wow! Three whole inches," Roy gasped, "That's tall!"

Elicia nodded before turning back and grabbing the hand of a surprised Winry, whom had been standing in the doorway, watching the pair. "Look, look! Uncle Roy came to visit us," the little girl proclaimed as she tugged the older girl forward. After pulling Winry through the doorframe, she stood on her toes again and peered around Roy.

"I see that, Elicia," Winry said as she glanced down at the distracted girl. Looking back at Roy with a nervous smile, she said, "Hello General Mustang. Is there something I can help you with? Gracia isn't here and-"

"Actually, I came by to see you," Roy replied as he stood, flashing her a soft smile, hoping to alleviate the girl's uneasiness. "Or rather, I came by to return this to Edward." Digging into his pocket, he fished out the boy's pocket watch and presented it to the girl.

"Oh! If you'd like, I can give it to him," Winry replied as she reached for the watch.

Roy curled his fingers around it and shoved it back into his pocket, still pseudo-smiling at the girl. "Actually, I'd rather give it to him myself. Would he happen to be around?"

"He-uh… He's…"

"He went to the library," the little girl stated proudly before returning to her task of peeking around the General.

Kneeling down once more to the girl's eye level, Roy gently clasped his hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Whatcha looking for, Elicia?"

The little girl folded her arms over her chest and huffed. "Mommy said that Aunt Riza came home, but I don't see her, so Mommy was lying!"

Roy gently shook his head and smiled at the young girl, "No, your mommy wasn't lying; Aunt Riza _is _home, but-"

Elicia let out another exasperated huff. "Then I'm mad at Aunt Riza. Why didn't she come to visit me with you?"

"Well, she's not feeling well, Elicia," Roy explained to the little girl. Feeling Winry's eyes on him, he continued slowly, "She got really sick while she was gone, so she's staying away until she feels better. Okay?"

"Okay…" The little girl sighed as she looked down at her feet gloomily.

Roy felt his expression soften. "Tell you what. When Aunt Riza feels better, I will bring her over and we can have a tea party. I bet she'll even let you do her hair. How does that sound?"

Elicia's head shot up and she smiled, "Okay! But you have to make me a promise."

"What's that?"

"You have to make Aunt Riza feel better soon," she replied confidently as she put her hands on her hips.

Roy smiled. "I'll do my best-"

"No," the little girl cut him off as she forcibly shook her head, "You can't just try. You _have _to because you're the only one that makes Aunt Riza smile."

"Is that so," Roy said amusedly, playing along.

"Well, you don't know because she does it when you aren't looking. Mommy says it's because you're both obivious*," she stated matter-of-factly.

Roy's heart did a quick flip. Hoping to cover any signs of surprise, he chuckled and ruffled the little girl's hair. "Yeah, I am oblivious, aren't I?"

Elicia nodded firmly. "But that's okay, because I will give you un-obivious tea at my tea party," she proclaimed proudly.

"I'm sure you will," Roy replied as he got to his feet. "Well," he continued, "I should get going. I have a couple more errands to run."

Elicia tackled his legs once again and hugged him. "Be sure to visit soon," she squealed as she gave his legs one final squeeze.

"I will," he promised. Glancing back up at a hesitant Winry after the little girl had let go, he nodded and murmured a polite goodbye before turning and departing down the hallway, his next destination clear in his mind.

* * *

Roy strode confidently through the library, casting the occasional glance down an aisle of books in the event that he'd see the boy. He had a feeling, however, that he'd find the boy where he always found him when he wanted to study in private.

Reaching the furthest corner of the library, Roy navigated his way through the bookshelves of the "Restricted" area before coming upon a wall of closed off rooms. Slowly walking past them and peering through the windows, he came upon one that had the door cracked open, casting a stray beam of light across the floor.

Peering through the crack, he was a familiar braid-wearing blond haired boy. Feet propped up on the table, Edward was slouched back in the wooden chair he was sitting on, balancing it on two of its four legs. In one hand he held a small red book just over his head, his other hand and arm draped over the back of the chair. As he rocked forward and backward slowly, he muttered to himself as he scanned the pages of the book.

After watching for a few moments, Roy finally pushed the door open and cleared his throat.

Startled, the young boy yelped and twisted around, grabbing the back of the chair, his eyes widened in surprise. Once he realized who it was, his shoulders relaxed and he let out an annoyed sigh. "Geez, you scared the hell out of me! Ever heard of knocking?"

Genuinely surprised by the boy's response, Roy replied crassly, "Well, the door _was _open."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want," the boy asked as he eyed him suspiciously.

Roy honestly didn't know how to respond. The dejected, submissive, unsure boy he had seen just a week ago was gone; instead replaced by the "old" Edward he had, admittedly, grown to miss. Suddenly remembering the boy had questioned him, he quickly dug into his pocket and pulled out the boy's silver pocket watch. "You left this behind," he stated coolly as he dangled it in front of him.

"Thanks," Edward mumbled as he snatched it from the older man's grasp. Turning back toward the table, Edward bent over and picked up the book he had dropped and flipped back to the page it was on. Noticing that Mustang was still dwelling in the doorway, he turned back to him. "'S that all?"

"You didn't go home to Resembool," Roy stated bluntly.

"Yeah," Edward shrugged as he turned back to the book. "Have to finish up some research. I'm going back to see Al in a couple of days." After pausing for a few moments, he continued, his voice lowered, "Did you know that Colonel Rodin was part of the Interrogation Division during the Ishvalan War?"

"Yes," Roy replied quickly. The man told him that when he first met him. After doing additional research, Roy had confirmed it for himself.

"Did you know that the Armstrong lineage only goes back for four generations?"

"What," Roy said, perplexed by the sudden change in thought by the boy.

"I didn't know you were adopted…" Edward continued.

"What does anything have to do with research," Roy snapped irritably.

Edward peered over his shoulder at the black-haired man, his eyes narrowed. "Everything." He sprang out of the chair and stood to face Roy, his arms folded across his chest. "Did you know that Turlorn was the epicenter for torturous techniques devised by the Amestrian government? Over six hundred Ishvalans were tortured and killed there during the first two years of the war. After leaving to advance further into Ishval, everything, including equipment and Ishvalan citizens, were left to rust and rot.

"Despite that and the fact that the Ishvalans knew of the horrendous history of that town, I can almost guarantee you that this was not prompted by a disgruntled Ishvalan. I can tell you, however, that at least one Drachman was involved."

Raising a brow and folding his arms across his chest, Roy leaned against the doorframe. "Go on," he commanded.

"The… method… they used that inflicted damage to Hawkeye's arm is a technique that has not been used in documented cases of interrogation and torture in over fifty years. You can't even find a description in any history books or official military documents." Grabbing the small red book off of the table, he shoved it into Roy's arms.

Opening it, Roy flipped through the pages and frowned. It was written entirely in Drachman. As he looked up at the boy with a confused expression, Edward continued.

"Yeah, that's all in Drachman. I spent the better part of the week translating it." Pointing to the golden letters on the cover, he noted, "That book contains all the information we have on the methods Drachman soldiers have used to interrogate Amestrian soldiers over the past two hundred years. One method in particular stood out; it's called the Silver Viper, but," he lowered his voice, "I'll explain it later."

"But," he looked up at Roy again; his eyes focused on the older man's, "I didn't just decide to research Drachman history out of sheer dumb luck. While at the scene in Turlorn, when Breda and I were invetigating the former command center, I accidentally stepped on a soda can that read 'Kuvahss,' which is a Drachman soft-drink sold exclusively in Drachma; trust me, I checked. So, I made that my starting point."

Ignoring the General's expression of awe, Edward wrapped up his observations, "Anyways, the reason why I brought up Armstrong and your adoption and whatever was because I wanted to prove that it's not hard to do research and find what you're looking for. Plus," he narrowed his eyes, "I'm sick of watching Investigations chase their tails. If you call up Rodin and have him ask the townspeople about seeing a man with Drachman heritage, there's bound to be _someone _that has seen something."

"Edward-"

"You know, this week has given me a lot of time to think," Edward interjected, ignoring the superior officer. "And I decided that I'm not going to follow orders anymore." He shoved his hands into his pockets and glared down at his feet, shifting uneasily. "I know I screwed up and you and Hawkeye have every right to hate me. But," he paused briefly to gather his thoughts, "But I want to help in any way that I can. Sending me back home won't do anyone any good."

"Edward-" Mustang continued again before getting cut off.

"So whether you like it or not," he looked up at the man, a glint of fierce determination in his eyes replaced any of his doubt, "I'm going to help. And this," he grabbed a set of papers he had stacked on the table, "has my report in it. I can have it to you tomorrow."

Finally it was Roy's turn to talk. To put it simply, he was flabbergasted. Even he knew that he had been harsh toward the boy. Honestly, he didn't think he would see the boy again. But there he was, standing in front of him, that same flame he had in his eyes when he had first met him years ago. He pushed himself off of the doorframe and straightened himself. "I expect your report no later than noon tomorrow."

Edward smirked, "I'll have it to you by 11."

* * *

After Mustang left, Edward let out a sigh of relief. He knew he'd have to talk to the man eventually, but he didn't think it would have been so soon. _Winry's words of encouragement and coaching had actually worked_, he thought to himself as he felt a small smile spread across his lips.

He had honestly thought of going back home, abandoning Central and leaving its inhabitants behind, figuring that he would somehow manage to live with the guilt. But Winry had never once given him the option, making excuses that ranged from wanting to stay with Gracia and Elicia for a few additional days to something as simple as wanting to try and find an elusive (and fictional, Edward later found out) automail shop that had some of the latest and greatest models.

When he finally demanded why she wanted to stay in Central so badly, Winry stared him straight in the eye and told him that she was waiting for _her _Edward. _Her _Edward didn't just give up. _Her _Edward bent the rules to gain the upper hand. _Her _Edward cheated Truth and restored his brother's body and his own. Because the Edward in front of her was not hers, and she wasn't leaving Central until she got him back.

He admits now that he was frustrated when she told him that. He _was_ the Edward she was supposedly waiting for.

She had simply shook her head in reply and said that he wasn't and again, she wouldn't leave until he came back.

After that point it only took him a few moments to understand her words and take them to heart.

She believed in him.

That was enough to give him the confidence he needed in order to keep going, despite being told he couldn't. This time he'd disobey orders for the right reasons. This time he wouldn't give up.

Gathering up a few of the books he had left scattered around the floor of the study room, he quickly made his way back into the library to reshelf them.

Once he had found their place, he began sliding them back onto the shelf one by one as he gathered his thoughts. He had given Mustang fragments that he had followed, but now he had to piece it all together. Now that he was back on the case, he'd have to ask Rodin if they had collected any of the litter at the scene to see if there were any additional clues there. He would have to, somehow, get a report on Hawkeye's condition in order to see if there were any other patterns he could deduce from her injuries. Then there was the whole process of finding those involved; and that would be the most challenging part. For all they knew, they could be long gone, disappeared back into the flow of society and-

The sound of a door slamming jerked Edward from his thoughts. After the ringing in his ears from the sudden noise had died down, he glared down the aisle, hoping to see the perpetrator. However, when no one passed by, he grumbled to himself and shelved the last book.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled back to his secluded study room, deciding that he'd check a few more military records for any patterns or clues he could follow before finalizing his report. Upon getting to his room, however, he found the remainder of the books strewn about, their pages and his papers torn to shreds. Rushing into the room he frantically dug around the scattered papers on the floor.

His report. That was all he needed. Just his report.

After a minute of searching, he sat back on his heels and stared blankly at the mess before him. This can't be happening. This can't be happening!

Everything. The small red book. His research. His report…

It was all gone.

* * *

As Roy turned down the usual corridors of the hospital wing he now had memorized, he couldn't help but notice that he felt lighter. Something about that conversation with Edward had giving him a sense of peace. This sense, he decided, was attributed to the notion that the boy was no longer bound there. He wanted to be there; helping in any way that he could. His determination fueled Roy, igniting a spark of hope.

As he crept into Riza's room, he saw that she was sleeping on her right side, facing the door. Slowly making her way over to her bed, he slid into the chair near her bed and carefully took her hand in his, drumming his fingers on the back of her hand and making his presence known.

She wearily opened her eyes and blinked a few times, beating back whatever feelings of tiredness she possessed. What she did next was what took his breath away.

A small smile spread across her thin, paled lips as her eyes scanned up him, stopping at his face. Her smile widened, and his heart stopped, when her sherry eyes peered into his own.

* * *

**A/N: **_Yaaaaay. Things get good, then they get bad, but then they get good again (she can see him!)! I know that Edward's "research" might seem a bit confusing now, but it'll make sense later.(I'm actually quite proud of this chapter)._

_I hope the Elicia part wasn't too cheesy. I tried. The '*' was just put there to let you know that I spelt "oblivious" wrong on purpose. I feel like she wouldn't be able to say it correctly at only 4 years old._

_So, now things begin to get interesting._

_**Warning: **__Major Royai fluff next chapter :3 (which will hopefully be out in the next week or two), and there will probably be some action. Not sure what it will be called. _

_As always, thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, and followed _Pressure Point. _You guys are amazing!_


	14. I See You

It was the same thing every time.

After Roy- _no, General_, she had to remind herself- left, her heart would begin to race. Her breathing would become quick and shallow, practically falling in line with the rapid pulsating she could feel in her ears.

Riza knew they were panic attacks. She had experienced them before, after returning home from the war in Ishval. Back then, the one thing that would ground her and bring her back to reality was a simple glance out the window of her apartment or a quick walk through East City. Something to remind her that she was no longer there; the war was over.

But this time there was no freedom in staring out the window or walking around. The only thing grounding her there was him.

So when he disappeared and became completely lost to her senses, she'd panic.

Because now there was no one there to explain to her that the person she felt take hold of her IV line was just a nurse_. _No one to tell her that the flooring she would sometimes hit _hard_ from pulling away and toppling from the bed was indeed linoleum and not the cold, hard concrete she had become accustomed to. And certainly no one was there to persuade her that the large, strong hands that took hold of her and tried to lift her were those that belonged to Dr. Marcoh and not one of _them_.

So when she knew that he would be leaving, she tried to force herself to sleep, to become oblivious to the world around. Sometimes it would work and sometimes it didn't.

The times it didn't work would be the times when the memory and pain from those three months would return with a cold-blooded vengeance. She tried desperately not to think about it; she knew that she needed to focus on healing. So her mind decided to remind her in other ways, even if she couldn't remember which memory was being replayed for her.

Every time she'd have one of those night terrors, he'd always be there coaxing her out of it. Every. Single. Time.

At first, it brought her an immediate sense of relief, realizing that it was him and not _them_. But on the other hand, after the short-lived feelings of comfort had passed, deep down inside herswlf, Riza felt incredibly selfish and foolish. Where had he been while these nightmares were happening? At his own home? Down the hall eating? Being productive? The thought that she was pulling him away from doing anything else made her feel worse.

These horrors she experienced in her sleep were taking their toll on him, even if he didn't admit it. Though her perception of time was greatly distorted, she at least had the sense that they were happening both day and night. Meaning that he was dropping what he was doing, whether it be sleep or work, and rushing to her side. How long _did _he actually sleep at night? Was he actually doing anything else besides attending to her?

She had asked him before. He simply replied in a coded message that he was. He even once handed her a stack of papers to prove that he was doing something.

…But then again, those could be scrap. Without seeing them for herself, how would she know? Without seeing his expression, his face, his eyes, she could never tell.

He could easily be lying to her in order to alleviate her guilt. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

She felt doubt and guilt and resentment toward herself. She was holding him back. She was supposed to be there to keep him moving forward.

Now she was merely a hindrance, an obstacle that prevented him from doing what he needed.

All she wanted was to see again. To see for herself that she really was safe. To see that everything would be okay. To see that he was doing well: that there were no dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep, that his face wasn't bruised (though she was positive it was), and that there were no stress lines that had formed on his brow from the weight of the constant need he felt to be there for her.

Or maybe she just wanted to see him again…

But for now, she'd have to deal with the rapid beating of her heart and the stomach pains whilst trying to calm her breathing… at least until she was sure he was gone.

He was leaving now. He just told her.

She nodded her head and closed her eyes, waiting to feel the vibrations of his steps grow dim until he was out of the room and gone.

But instead he was dwelling, unmoving. She could feel his eyes on her.

Her heart rate began to climb in anticipation of his departure. She couldn't let it escalate further, lest he may decide to remain there.

_Remain calm, _she silently commanded herself as she took a large breath, exhaling slowly and deeply.

That seemed to satisfy him.

After a few seconds of residing next to her, he finally turned and slowly left, disappearing from her senses.

Before she could allow herself to panic, she took another deep breath and exhaled, allowing her muscles to relax. She was more exhausted than she thought.

Feeling herself begin to drift, she pushed the feelings of anxiety by doing something that she maybe should have done all along: by focusing on seeing his face, remembering what he looked like.

Who would have thought, she realized later, that that would be enough to chase the nightmares away.

* * *

"_I see you…"_

_Riza had been surprised by his voice. Setting her book down and turning her head to look towards his bed, she saw that the Colonel was facing her; his grey, blinded eyes fixated on where he knew her bed was._

_The men were gone for the day, having left about an hour or so ago. It had been a long day, but judging by the answers to the questions fired at the Colonel by the men, she knew that those long days of learning were paying off._

_He had been particularly exhausted this day, so she wasn't surprised that he had fallen asleep almost immediately after they had left. But now she was left wondering; had he been awake this entire time?_

"_Sir," she responded, her tone reforming that utterance into a question._

_He smiled and shook his head. "It's exactly as I said, Lieutenant." He pushed himself into a sitting position, allowing his legs to dangle off the bed. "I see you."_

_She furrowed her brow and watched the Colonel for a few moments. Normally, she understood the underlying message in his words. But this time, she honestly didn't. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't follow."_

_He chuckled lightly. "I should probably be a bit clearer, shouldn't I?" Planting his feet on the ground, he stood and stretched. As he took a step toward her bed, Riza was already out of it and in front of him, quickly removing the chair Breda had accidentally left in his path._

_Hearing the sound of the chair scraping across the floor just in front of him, the Colonel raised his brows and smiled playfully. "I didn't realize you were so eager, Riza."_

_She couldn't help but roll her eyes. He had tried his just a few days before, dropping rank and calling her Riza. Sure, it made her heart skip a beat when he uttered her name, but if anyone else had heard it, it could spell trouble for both of them. "Sir…" she warned as she took a step toward him, hoping to guide him back toward his bed, for fear that he'd find something to trip over._

_Using the sound of her voice to guide him, Roy lifted his hands and found her shoulders, squeezing them gently as his playful demeanor melted away. "I was just thinking about how grateful I am to have you by my side. Despite everything that's happened, everything that _could _happen… you've remained with me, unwavering in your loyalty." His smile faltered, giving way to a pained expression, "I thought I was going to lose you… and…"_

"_I'm still here," she murmured, silently reassuring him of her unshakable promise to always be there no matter what. She began to slowly lift her hands, hoping to take his wrists and guide him back to his bed, but was stopped when he moved again._

_Obviously feeling her shift, he navigated his hands from her shoulders, brushing over the bandages on her neck, gently taking her face in his hands. His eyes somehow found hers, seeming to stare into them, into her soul. "I know," Roy replied softly, his small smile returning. "I just want to let you know that I see you… and that I always have."_

_Riza felt her face grow warm. She was thankful that he couldn't see her reddening cheeks._

_There had always been that electricity, that spark, between them. But it… this… was wrong. They were superior and subordinate; nothing more, nothing less. At least, that's what she tried to make herself believe._

_She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize he had moved again, guiding her face toward his. Suddenly his lips were on hers, the abrupt action taking her breath away._

_She should have pulled away, scolded him for his brashness… but she didn't. Instead, once she had regained her senses, she found herself leaning into him, matching his pressure with her own._

_It was wrong. He knew it and she knew it. But at that moment, that single moment, neither one seemed to care, each of them lost in their feelings and desires._

_It was wrong… but it felt right._

_She found herself wanting that moment to last forever, but her logical side was admonishing her, berating her for allowing this to happen._

_Her logical side was right. It was right. It was right. It was right…_

_But just one more moment…_

_Just one more…_

* * *

_Crash!_

Riza's eyes flew open as the sound of breaking glass jolted her from her sleep. She immediately turned her head toward the source of the noise, dazed by the sudden stimulation. Outside the door she could hear two voices, one apologizing to the other for its clumsiness. After a minute or so of constant chatter, and the sounds of scraping glass, the two voices faded away.

She slowly closed her eyes and turned her head, straightening her neck. After a few moments of resting again, however, her eyes opened once more, staring at-no, seeing- the popcorn ceiling above her.

It took her a few moments to register it, but when she did, she let out an audible gasp.

Her senses had returned.

* * *

Riza waited for him.

It may seem childish, but she didn't care. She wanted him to be the first one she saw, even if that meant feigning sleep. After all, he had given her the same privilege when his sight was returned to him.

After a few hours of resting, she suddenly heard him talking, exchanging pleasantries with a staff member.

Her pulse quickened. She couldn't help it.

Closing her eyes again, she allowed herself to listen to the sound of his voice. She never realized how comforting it was.

She could hear his footsteps now; he was in her room.

Like he always did, he sat down in the chair closest to her bed, taking her hand in his. Before he could tap out his message, however, she opened her eyes.

Blinking a few times to reassure herself that what she was seeing was real, she slowly let her eyes wander upward, past his blue uniform and up to his face, until they found his dark, onyx eyes .

For a moment, neither one wavered, both of them too focused on watching the other.

Roy's mouth hung slightly open, as if he was unsure that she could really see him. She felt a smile spread across her face. Before she could speak, he broke the silence, his voice first coming out as a whisper.

"Riza…" He choked, his eyes glistening with hope.

This was real. It wasn't a dream…

"I see you," she murmured as her smile widened.

This real…

It wasn't a dream…

It was him…

* * *

**A/N: **

_Briefly on conversion disorder: Yes, symptoms can literally disappear and appear just like that. That's what makes the phenomenon so intriguing..._


	15. Vertigo

**Quick A/N: **_Just renamed the chapter. It still has the same content, but I decided that "Pressure Point" would be a title best-suited for the next chapter._

* * *

Riza's smile faded the longer she watched him.

It was as if she couldn't read his expressions anymore. She couldn't tell if he was upset, joyous, happy, worried… Nothing.

Was he upset? Maybe she shouldn't have hidden the return of her senses from the doctor and nurses. It suddenly felt like a stupid, childish notion. Hiding something significant from her recovery so that she could see _him _first.

She suddenly felt uncomfortable and exposed.

She felt foolish.

Suddenly, however, his expression changed, giving way to a warm, widened smile; easing the embarrassment that had begun to pool in her chest.

Letting out a short, sharp breath of disbelief, Roy murmured her name again, to which she replied with a quick nod. "You see me," he asked, as if still unconvinced.

"Yes, sir," she replied lightly.

Squeezing her hand gently, his gleaming, onyx eyes peered back into hers, his hesitation melting away as his beam grew.

"And I see you."

* * *

For the next hour or so, the two of them walked about nothing in particular, simply enjoying each other's company. And every time the conversation began to veer toward the past few months, he quickly steered the topic toward something light, even if it was something as plain as the weather.

Riza listened more than she spoke; allowing herself to appreciate the sound of his voice.

She had gotten so lost in it that when she heard a chime, she gasped and jumped.

"It's alright," Roy reassured her as he held his hands up. "It's just the clock." Nodding toward the device on the wall, Riza could see that it read _four o' clock_.

After his eyes lingered on it for a few moments, Roy turned back to face Riza. "We go at four every day," he explained, referring to their very short treks down the hallway and back in their effort to strengthen her legs. "Are you up to going?"

Despite not knowing when these brisk walks occurred during the day, Riza always looked forward to them. Every time she went, she could feel her legs getting stronger. She knew that each step she took was one step closer to recovering… and one step closer to taking her place at his side once more.

She nodded in reply, maybe even too eagerly. She'd go two… three… four… as many times as it took to get back on her feet, both literally and figuratively.

Roy's tender smile grew. "In that case," he said softly as he stood, offered his left hand to her, "I want to try something."

* * *

_Riza looked up from her book and rolled her eyes at the ridiculous-looking black-haired boy that was dancing around her living room, his arms wrapped around an invisible dance partner._

_Feeling her brown-eyed gaze on him, Roy stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, casting her a pleading look. "Please Riza. It's not the same without a partner."_

_Glaring at him, Riza stated coldly, "Mr. Mustang, I told you that I don't dance. You seem to be doing just fine on your own." When she looked back down at her book, the relentless young boy shoved his hand in front of the book, blocking her view of the text. Scowling, the young girl looked up at him and narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Why did he even need to "refresh his memory" on his dancing. It wasn't like he was going to use those skills anytime soon…_

"_C'mon, I want to try something."_

* * *

She looked up at her superior officer and then back down at his hand. Reaching out slowly, she placed her hand in his.

* * *

_Frustrated by the boy's persistence, Riza sighed and slammed her book shut, resulting in a triumphant smile from Roy. After setting the book off to the side, she begrudgingly reached up and grasped the boy's outstretched hand. "Just one dance. Promise?"_

_His grin widening, Roy replied, "Promise."_

* * *

After slowly guiding her up and to her feet, Roy nodded down at his boots.

Looking down at them, she frowned slightly.

* * *

"_Hop on," Roy said as he glanced down at his shoes._

_Looking down confusedly at them, Riza frowned._

_Seeing her uncertainty, Roy nodded again. "It'll help you remember the steps better. Trust me."_

* * *

Seeing Riza's uncertainty, Roy looked up and caught her eyes, flashing her an affectionate smile. "It's okay. Trust me."

* * *

_Rolling her eyes once more, Riza stepped onto his shoes, feeling her weight depress them slightly. She hoped she _didn't _remember the steps, because then maybe he wouldn't ask her to do this again._

_Looking back up at him, she noticed that he didn't at all seem fazed by her weight on his feet. In fact, he was smiling at her. Feeling her cheeks flush, she turned away slightly and focused on the chair over his shoulder. _Idiot, _she_ _silently scolded herself. _It's just a dance. Just do it once and get it over with._ Then she could go back to ignoring him like she should._

* * *

Peering down at his feet again, Riza cautiously stepped onto his steel-toed boots.

Despite the fact Roy should not have been able to feel her weight on his toes; Riza could feel him watching her, a hint of remorse in the air around him.

He probably at least expected some sort of pressure.

When she was waiting for him, she had peered at her hospital chart. Recorded above her weight was a crossed out _98lbs_, replaced by a _96_. She had been at 125lbs before…

But when she looked back up at him, his smile was soft and his eyes were filled with an eager sadness. Lifting his other hand, he gingerly placed it on her back, drawing her closer to him. So close, in fact, that she could hear his heart beating.

* * *

_She had never been this close to him before. Why, oh why did she agree to do this?! _

_She could hear his heartbeat; it was practically in sync with her rapidly beating one. _

Too close. Too close. Too close!

_She shouldn't have agreed to this. He knew just as well as she that this was a horrible idea. If her father returned home early, he'd probably set them _both _on fire._

_He knew it was a bad idea… but he wasn't showing signs of distress or anxiety, aside from his tachy heart rate. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was _enjoying _himself! _

_Probably because he had _finally _gotten her to agree to do _something_. That's it… It was simply a celebratory smile…_

_After taking a few awkward steps back from the couch, Roy began to move his feet, moving the two of them with relative ease. _

_How did he make it look so easy? He couldn't be _that_ strong. He was just a city boy_

_Now they were spinning, their movements fluid and euphonic, matching the sweet melody he had begun to hum softly. _

His movements, _she had to correct herself. _You aren't doing any work.

* * *

Before Riza knew it, Roy had moved away from her bed and they were moving with the same fluidity they had achieved years ago.

It was slow at first, but after her knees had stopped shaking, Roy, _-stop it!-, _the General had started moving faster, finally matching the rhythm of the song, _that same song_, he had hummed so long ago.

Back when they were young…

But now she felt more alive, feeling a spark that had been long extinguished suddenly reignite.

It had been snuffed out long ago; long before being taken. She had done it herself when she joined the military. But being in the military, in such close quarters, was like tossing in kindling to feed that spark. She couldn't have that. It would compromise her goal of seeing him achieve his.

So she smothered it.

And now it was back…

And she felt like a naïve thirteen year old girl again. The girl that had "lost track of time" and allowed the dancing to continue for another hour. The girl that had begun to fall for him as he spun her around her living room, not seeming to care if her father _did _arrive home or not.

Looking back at his face, she could see that sixteen year old boy again with his shining, hopeful eyes.

But those words came back to her.

"_I see you."_

…But he shouldn't.

He needed to focus on more important matters. And she needed to focus on healing.

To return to his side once more.

To protect his back.

And to do so, she needed to douse the small fire that had begun to burn.

That dream. That dream had set it alight.

She needed to forget it because that's all it was. Just a dream.

She suddenly felt as if they were spinning faster. Her head began to ache, a feeling a dizziness washing over her.

Looking back up at his face, she could barely make out his features as the edges of her vision began to blur and darken.

Riza felt dizzy and nauseous. It was too much…

Taking a shaking, deep breath, she felt her head bob forward, finding his shoulder to rest on.

As soon as she did so, the spinning stopped and she felt herself being lowered onto the soft mattress of her bed. That same force guided her downward, maneuvering her head to her pillow. Moments later, she heard a muffled voice. It took her a few moments to decipher it, but when she did she recognized it as the General's. He was calling her name.

Willing herself to open her eyes, she tried focusing in his now-spinning face. Closing her eyes again, she took a breath and opened them again.

The spinning had slowed enough so she could focus on him.

His face screamed of distress and worry, his brows raised to add to his panicked expression.

After a few moments, she could make out his words more clearly.

"Oh god. I'm sorry, Riza. I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

Taking another breath, she raised her right hand, hoping to try and calm him. "I'm okay, sir. Just… just dizzy."

"That was stupid. I'm sorry," he continued as he apologized over and over again.

Opening her mouth to try and stop him from berating himself, Riza was stopped when she saw someone else enter the room. Turning toward the newcomer, she quickly recognized him as Dr. Marcoh.

The doctor stood in the doorway with a baffled expression, most likely trying to figure out why the General was castigating his "actions." However, after a few moments of observation, the doctor turned toward Riza, noticing that her eyes were on him. Making his way across the room, Dr. Marcoh stood before her, which caused the General to stop his apologies.

Dr. Marcoh smiled widely, "It's great to see you, Lieutenant."

Blinking away the remaining starbursts in her vision, Riza nodded and shot him a small smile. "It's nice to see you, Doctor."

* * *

After Dr. Marcoh chastised him for his audacious actions, he gave Riza a quick look over and determined that everything appeared normal, much to Roy's relief. Just a mild case of vertigo, most likely induced by standing too quickly and for too long. To err on the side of caution, Marcoh decided to reattach her IV line in order to deliver extra fluids.

Roy knew deep down that what he had done was hasty. He had pushed her too hard, too soon.

But seeing her look at him, _really look at him_, Roy couldn't help but act in that manner. He had waited so long to see her smile again; genuinely smile.

This meant that she was recovering.

And that was all that he could ask for…

Just as Dr. Marcoh got up to leave, a nurse knocked on the doorframe and entered the room. Fixing her gaze on the General, she said, "General Mustang, there's someone here to see you."

He hadn't been expecting anyone. His men knew that they were not yet able to visit Riza… not until she had been cleared of all signs of infection. So then, that left one other person…

Turning back to Riza, he grasped her hand and gently squeezed it. "I'll be right back," he promised, his words tinged with regret. He didn't want to go, even if it was just for a few minutes. He wanted to continue witnessing her progress, but he knew that he couldn't every second. Because he had to leave eventually…

She nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir."

Before he let his gaze linger, he turned away and begrudgingly stood. Casting one last, quick glance toward her, he followed the nurse out of the room and into the hallway, allowing her to lead him to the waiting area.

Upon seeing the General emerge from around the corner, Lieutenant Colonel Rodin waved excitedly at him.

Trying to push back his feelings of annoyance, remembering that this man is helping him, Roy plastered a smile on his face and casually walked over to him, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Hello, _General_," the Lieutenant Colonel beamed as he remembered to correctly address roy, "How is she doing?"

Roy couldn't help but flash him a boyish smile in return. "Actually, Lieutenant Colonel, she's doing very well."

Taking a moment to process the General's response, most likely expecting to hear the same response as always, Rodin stared back, the corners of his lips raised. "That's great, sir! This is perfect… I was hoping to talk to you because," he lowered his voice in an effort to keep bystanders from listening in, "I have a big break in the case I want to discuss with you. So I was hoping we could reconvene at the Christmas Tavern in order to exchange information."

Legitimately surprised by the Lieutenant Colonel's news regarding the case, the General paused before nodding. "Of course, Lieutenant Colonel. Shall we say," he glanced up at the clock on the wall, "six o' clock?" It was 4:30 now. That would still give him plenty of time to spend with her. He'd hate to leave, but if this was pertaining to the case, then he'd allow himself to pull away briefly.

Rodin nodded once before saluting. "That sounds perfect, sir. I'll see you at six."

Returning the salute, Roy acknowledged their finalized plans before turning to make his way back into the hospital.

Things were finally beginning to look up…

* * *

Edward knew that the report was no longer there, and yet he still searched. Because there had to be a clue… right? Something that the perpetrator had left behind. A strand of hair… a footprint… something!

But the longer he searched through the torn up bits of paper and debris, Edward's will to continue searching began to die.

It was definitely gone.

He remembered the context of everything he had written down, but the books and materials he had worked so diligently to compile were listed in that report. He could go back and relocate all of those files and books, but then that would require more searching and referencing. That took too much time, and time was precious, especially after he had spent a week gathering everything to make that case.

For now, giving an oral report would have to do. He'd explain to them what had happened, possibly opening up another investigation to look into this sabotage. There was no way this was a mere coincidence. _Someone _wanted him to slip, because they knew that he had made advancements in the case.

And that meant that they were in Central.

Forcing himself back onto his feet, Edward dusted himself off and stepped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Everything in there was useless anyways.

He needed to find Mustang. He needed to tell him that they were here.

Before he stepped through the exit of the 'restricted' section, however, a small piece of paper taped to the edge of the doorframe caught his eye. Sidestepping over to it, he tore it off of the frame and glared down at it. After he had read the first few lines, he felt a shiver run down his spine.

'_I wonder, Mr. Elric; who are your pressure points?' w_as all it said, written in a sloppy, disjointed script.

He felt the blood drain from his face. He should have realized his before as he was foolishly muddling through the remains of his hard work, completely wasting his time.

They knew what he was doing.

They had been following him.

Meaning that they knew whom he held close, those that he cherished.

One of them being right there in Central with him.

"…Winry."

* * *

**A/N: **_I hope no one was confused about that segment where I jumped back and forth between the present and the past. I wanted to show the change in Riza and Roy's relationship from when they were younger until now. So I apologize if it seems disjointed… I totally envisioned the instrumental "Unlocking the Mind," by Samuel Karl Bohn as I wrote the dancing scene._

_And… I feel like I've hit a branching point in the story. I could definitely wrap it up in about 10-12 chapters, or I could add another arc I was thinking of, which would have more Royai, Parental!RoyEd, and even some Friendship!RizaEd (and thus it could span to an additional 10 or so chapters). But I don't want it to seem as if I'm allowing the story to drag on, especially if it seems long already (I honestly half feel like I'm dragging and half feeling like I'm moving too fast...)! It would all be relevant to the story, but I just haven't decided yet…_

_Anyways, thank you to all that have reviewed, followed, and favorited _Pressure Point_ so far! I'm nearly to 100 followers on this story and I'm just flattered and honored. Thank you for sticking this out with me._


	16. Pressure Point

**A/N: **_Contains graphic content and scenes of PTSD. Reader discretion is advised._

* * *

_"What the hell does this even mean?!"_

_Edward flinched at the General's sudden outburst. Looking up from his desk, he saw that the older man was still pacing back and forth. Like a caged animal._

_In his shaking hand was the note; the poorly scrawled out script simply reading: '_We have your pressure point.'

_What _did _it mean? It made no sense..._

_Casting his glance toward the rest of the team, Edward deduced that they too had no ideas. They were watching the General intently, their eyes reflecting hopelessness and fear._

_The note gave them nothing. No clues. No ransom. No motive._

_She had been gone for four weeks now. Despite the efforts of Lieutenant Colonel Rodin and his men, they had found no leads. They had investigated Edward's claim regarding the behemoth he had seen, but without any other witnesses or signs that he had been there, it was next to impossible to trace the man._

_He, and Hawkeye, were gone. Vanished._

_Edward looked back down at the blank sheet of paper on his desk. The notion of a "pressure point" was vaguely familiar to him... But where had he heard it?_

Think...

Think.

Think!

* * *

_"Brother... Look at this!" The suit of armor held up the Xingese book he was reading, pointing at a paragraph toward the bottom of the page._

_"What is it, Al?" Edward sauntered over to his younger brother and leaned forward, his eyes flitting over the section of text. _Blah blah blah... Pressure point... Eye of the dragon... Something something something... Restraint. Control. 'Energy flow.' Yada yada yada...

_Looking up from the text, Edward glared at his brother. "Al, this doesn't have anything to do with alkahestry. Put it back and grab that book over there." Turning away, he went back to his spot on the floor and sat down, picking up the book he had been reading previously._

_"Okay," the suit of armor closed the book and set it off to the side. Reaching for the book Edward had suggested to him, he noted, "You've got to admit, it _is_ pretty interesting. Using the body's weak points to gain an advantage."_

_"Yeah, yeah," Edward replied without looking up from his book, only half-listening. His mind had already moved onto the next topic. "Interesting... But irrelevant."_

* * *

_"I think I know..."_

_Everyone in the office turned in surprise at the sound of Edward's voice. He didn't blame them; the sound of his own voice surprised him too. He had hardly spoken since he decided to stay behind in order to help with the investigation. Of the pairs of eyes on him, he could feel the familiar, unforgiving glare that now customarily belonged to the General._

_He must tread lightly..._

_Slowly looking up to meet their gazes, he continued, "I read something once in a Xingese medical book-"_

_"This isn't about medicine, _Elric_," Mustang snapped in an effort to shut him down._

_"Hey," Havoc responded cautiously, "Let's hear the kid out. Otherwise, what do we have?"_

_Mustang stopped pacing and scoffed. But after contemplating the Lieutenant's proposal, he replied with a reluctant, "Fine. Go on."_

_Their eyes were on him again._

_Taking a deep breath, Edward pushed himself away from the desk and stood, keeping his hands planted firmly on the table surface. Looking at them fully now, he proceeded tentatively, "Al and I read about it a while back; when we were researching alkahestry. The book said that a pressure point was a weak spot on the human body that could cause immense pain when manipulated._

_"So what if you were to apply that notion to a person," he continued with more confidence. "If someone were to take a person that was valuable and precious, they could manipulate the one they're after in any way they see fit..."_

_The rest of the crew slowly turned their focuses toward Mustang, whose glare never left the boy._

_With narrowed, onyx eyes, Mustang simply growled, "It's an interesting theory... One that _might _be considered."_

_Edward nodded slowly and sat back down, submissively fixating his eyes on his blank sheet of paper once more._

_The cold-eyed stared lingered for a few moments before being broken as Mustang began pacing again, clutching the note in his fist and muttering quietly to himself._

_Edward knew by the fleeting expression on Mustang's face before he looked away._

_He knew that he was right._

* * *

Edward was sprinting now, not stopping once to catch his breath. He silently begged whatever omnipotent forces there were to get him there in time. _Please, _his mind screamed, _let Winry be okay!_

As he raced up the steps of the apartment building, he nearly ran over a departing delivery man that was exiting the same time he was trying to gain entry. Ignoring the disgruntled yell to "stop" from the agitated man, Edward simply tossed a half-hearted apology over his shoulder as he raced up the stairs. Upon reaching the third floor, he rushed over to Mrs. Hughes's door and began pounding furiously.

_Please, please, please!_

It was taking too long. She should have answered by now.

Oh god. What about Elicia? Mrs. Hughes? Were they caught up in this too?

Just as Edward was mentally preparing himself to kick down the door, the handle turned and it opened, revealing a familiar blonde-haired girl and her small brown-haired companion. Eyeing Edward with concern, Winry asked, "What's wrong, Ed?"

He quickly pushed past her and began scouring the apartment. No one else was there. Nothing was out of place, as far as he could tell.

"Ed?"

He jumped and whirled around to face Winry, whose face was now filled with concern.

"What's wrong?"

Through his gasping and wheezing, Edward managed to reply, "Are you okay?... Are you hurt?" Before she could answer, he looked around panickedly, "Where's Mrs. Hughes?"

"Right here, Ed."

He spun around in time to see Mrs. Hughes emerge from the kitchen, a towel and plate in her hands. Upon seeing his wild-eyed panic, she asked, "Is everything okay?"

"They're here," he gasped as he directed his attention toward the living room's phone.

"Who's here," Winry asked with a mix of fear and alarm in her voice. "Ed," she murmured as she held a frightened Elicia close, "You're scaring us."

Ignoring her, he quickly picked up the phone and began dialing. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered with a cheery, "Hello?"

"Al," Edward sputtered. "Is Granny there? Is Den? Are you alright?"

"...Yes, Brother," Alphonse responded confusedly. "What's wrong?"

"Al, listen carefully. Don't let anyone in, okay?"

"Brother, I-"

"Please, Al," Edward begged. "I'll explain later. Just... Please listen."

"Brother," Al demanded. "Please, you're scaring me..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Edward saw Winry and Mrs. Hughes watching him intently. Little Elicia, scared but not understanding what was going on, had her face buried in Winry's skirt.

He must have looked mad...

Realizing this, he turned his attention back to Al. "I... I think they're here."

"Who," Alphonse asked, fear rising in his voice.

"The people that took Hawkeye." He heard a gasp behind him, but he kept going, "They left me a note, Al... I... I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Brother..."

"Have Granny call the Robertsons. Invite them over for dinner. Something! Just... Just don't stay alone..." His mind was reeling. He needed to get to Mustang. He'd know what to do. He'd know how to keep them safe. "I'll call you later, but I need you to promise me that you'll be cautious. Please, Al."

After a short pause, Alphonse responded with a strong, "I will."

As Edward prepared himself to hang up, Alphonse quietly added, "You stay safe too, Brother."

Hanging up the line, Edward turned to face the women that were standing behind him. Mrs. Hughes's eyes were widened with a mixture of shock and fear, too stunned to move. Winry had one hand planted over her mouth, the other wrapped comfortingly around Elicia; her eyes filled with terror.

"We have to go," Edward murmured toward the pair.

They needed to find Mustang. And Edward knew exactly where to find him.

* * *

Roy stared down at the half-empty glass in front of him, watching as the droplets of condensation rolled down the sides. Beyond the glass, he could make out Madame Christmas's form as she was polishing a wine glass; as she always did when it was a "dead night."

"So who's this 'Rodin' fellow again?"

Looking up at the Madame, Roy murmured, "He's the one helping us with the case."

"Ah, that's right. The one with the two kids?"

"Yeah." Turning to fix his gaze at the clock, Roy realized that it was 6:15pm. Where was he? Roy had a better place to be...

As if his thoughts had summoned the man, Rodin came stumbling in, a manila file tucked under his left arm. Eyeing Roy, he rushed over and set the file on the bar counter. "I'm sorry," he apologized profusely, over and over again. "Traffic was rough and-"

"It's fine," Roy interjected. Nodding toward the file, he muttered, "Let's begin."

"Sure! No problem," the Lieutenant Colonel quipped. Turning toward the Madame, he raised a finger and requested a whisky on the rocks. When he asked if Roy wanted anything, he shook his head and muttered he was fine.

Once Madame Christmas had walked away, Rodin dove right in. Opening the file slightly, he pulled out a series of photos. Spreading them out across the counter for Roy to see, Rodin pointed to a figure in each picture. "One of my men that was stationed at the Ishvalan HQ spotted this man a few days ago."

Roy leaned in closer, seeing the man's very... Distinct features. Bald head. Massive size. A plethora of scars. Just as the man Edward described...

"According to train station personnel, he boarded a train that was heading south," Rodin began. "My man followed, of course, but when they reached the train's destination of Algora, the man never reemerged. It's as if he vanished."

Roy tried to hide his scowl. _This _was the big break? A prime suspect in the case was now gone, lost to them.

"But," Rodin continued, "We matched him with a description of an Aerugeon mercenary that escaped prison a few years ago." Pulling out a stack of papers from the file, Rodin placed them in front of Roy and pointed at the name at the top of the paper. "His name is Adamo Giordani. Thirty-seven years old. He was sentenced to life for six counts of murder and eight counts of kidnapping.

"We're working on tracking him now."

"Have you alerted Aerugeon officials," Roy pressed.

"Yes, sir," Rodin replied confidently. They're looking for him near their border. They want him just as badly as we do." Upon having his whisky glass set down in front of him, he looked up and smiled at the Madame.

"Alright." Lacing his fingers together and resting his chin atop them, Roy glared down at the paper in front of him and grimaced. _Adamo Giordani, hmm? _"Let me see the rest of the file," Roy reached for the manila envelope.

Rodin hastily pulled it from his reach. "With all due respect," the dark-haired man replied quietly, "You aren't ready, sir."

Focusing his hardened gaze on the Lieutenant Colonel. "I am still the leading officer, _Lieutenant Colonel,_" Roy warned as he reached for the envelope again.

"Sir," Rodin tried again to pull it away, but Roy beat him to it, snatching it from his grasp.

When he pulled it toward himself, a variety of Polaroid photos spilled out on the corner in front of him. Staring down at the pile of pictures in front of him, it dawned on him that Rodin was right: He wasn't ready.

In the topmost picture was a shot of the small stone confinement they had found her in. The concrete walls covered in bloodied handprints, the floor saturated with a large, dried puddle of blood.

The next, poking out from beneath the top photo, was of a rickety, old wooden chair; rope restraints still bound to the back.

Another; a snapshot of piles of worn, bloodied rope restraints.

The abandoned dining hall.

Trash. Litter.

Bloodied wall.

A woman's body…

The rest of the pictures were registering, but at the same time they weren't. He saw them. He knew them.

But his mind had transported him elsewhere: back to that hellhole.

He could smell the decay, feel the same panic and fear and anger he felt that day.

His heart was pounding in his ears. He was back there. _She _was back there.

A sudden pressure on his shoulder alerted him that someone was trying to communicate with him. He couldn't. It was too much.

She was there and dying and she needed him.

"_Sir!"_

Dying.

Dying.

Dying.

"Sir!"

Jolted from his delusions, Roy stared wide-eyed at a set of deep-blue eyes in his field of vision.

"Sir, give it to me," a disembodied voice commanded.

_Give what? _He slowly looked down at the photo in his hands and froze.

It contained a severed forearm.

Laid out on a white table.

White background.

Black and blue flesh. Blue and black.

Fingers forever curled in rigor mortis.

It looked inhuman. Alien.

It couldn't be... It wasn't…

It was.

A tag was tied loosely around the middle finger.

'_Hawkeye, R.' _it read.

The lingering scent of decay and rot pummeled his senses again, filling his nose; choking him, sucking away the air in his lungs.

Dying.

Dying.

The picture was ripped from his flimsy grip on it, disappearing from his narrow field of vision. It was quickly replaced with a familiar, round face; normally narrowed, dark eyes widened and filled with concern. Her lips moved methodically, repeating the same thing over again.

_Roy._

_Roy._

_Roy!_

"Roy!"

He shuddered and blinked. The cobblestone floors, cement walls, and smells of must and decay faded from his field of vision.

He was back in the bar.

"Roy," Madame Christmas spoke again, gently shaking him back and forth on his seat.

He looked up, dazed. Over her shoulder was Rodin, one hand over his mouth, the other concealing the manila folder, and photograph, beneath his thick, brown jacket. His brows were raised in concern, his piercing blue eyes widened. "Sir," he managed to choke out, shock tinged his voice. "Sir… It's okay. She's fine."

"…What," he muttered, finally coming to his senses. He knew that. They were in Central. She was at the military hospital. She was safe. She was… fine? Would he call that 'fine'?

"Sir," Rodin made an attempt toward him, but was blocked by a scowling Madame Christmas.

"I think it's best you leave, _Lieutenant Colonel,_" she said hardly, her dark eyes staring him down.

"I-"

"It's fine," she snapped agitatedly. "The General and I go back a couple of years. _It's fine_."

In his peripheral vision, Roy saw the Lieutenant Colonel's shoulders slump, realizing that any attempts at trying to comfort the shaken General would be prevented by the disturbed and overprotective bar owner. He slowly gathered his things and, hugged his jacket close to himself, concealing the envelope; he briskly nodded his head and made his way toward the front of the bar.

Roy heard the familiar _jingle _of the bell that hung from the front door, signaling that it had opened and closed.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, Roy buried his face in his hands, trying desperately to erase the images from his mind.

Exhaling deeply, he willed himself to remember.

She was no longer there.

She was recovering.

She was safe…

* * *

Riza inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly in an effort to calm herself.

Despite knowing she was in the hospital, and that Roy had left and would return, she still could not shake the anxiety that was beginning to claw at her insides. Her heart had begun to race again; her breathing intensified.

She knew that he would return shortly; he said so himself. He had other things to do. She couldn't and wouldn't hold him there.

...So why was this still happening?

It would be okay!

It would be okay.

It would be okay...

Feeling a slight tug on her IV line, Riza furrowed her brows and wearily opened her eyes. She thought the attending nurse had finished administering her medications and left minutes ago.

Attempting to quell the feelings of exhaustion and anxiety that had been at odds within her, her eyes wandered up to the nurse in an effort to try and focus on her.

Except it wasn't her.

A sudden surge of adrenaline rushed through her body. In a feeble attempt to struggle away, Riza found that she had gone completely numb, her limbs and body rendered completely useless. She was trapped; her mind reeling with terror and panic.

Small, black gleeful pierced hers; the same ones she had grown to loathe and fear.

Cracked, pale lips curled into a twisted smile, revealing yellowed, rotten teeth that were framed by a mess of overgrown, greasy black hair.

"Hello, _Lieutenant_," the Interrogator purred. "It's been a long time."


	17. We Tried

"Hello Lieutenant, it's been a long time." The Interrogator smirked at her as he shoved his hands into his, obviously stolen, lab jacket. "It took us a long time to finally find you."

Riza tried to open her mouth to yell, scream, _something_ to alert someone. But it was as if her jaw were locked in place, paralyzed. She tried her right arm, silently begging it to function. However, that too was immovable.

With an almost bored expression, the Interrogator pulled Roy's chair closer to her bedside and sank into it, flashing her a self-satisfied smirk. "Anyways, Lieutenant, I added an additional drug to your medical arsenal." Gesturing toward her, he noted, "Someone in your condition shouldn't be up and moving around. Nothing too extreme," he added with a devious grin, "just a paralytic."

Her heart dropped in realization. She was stuck there, immobilized. Completely at his mercy, that is, if he had any; which she knew he didn't.

"Anyways, I-" he stopped and looked over his shoulder when he heard two nurses walk by. With a frustrated sigh, he stood and strode over to the door, pushing it almost completely shut. After making his way back over to the chair, but before sitting, he mused, "Don't want to close it all the way now do we? No need to arouse suspicion."

Riza's eyes flitted over to the clock on the wall. It was 7. The nurses would be making their next rounds at 9...

Turning to see what she was looking at, the greasy-haired man shrugged, "Looks like it's just you and me." When he looked back at her, his lips curled into a twisted smile. "I saw your General leave, so unfortunately he won't be meeting me tonight. I don't expect this to take very long."

Standing and pushing the chair away, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe and a small brown bottle. He uncapped the needle and, holding the bottle upside down and at an angle, he punctured the top and began to fill the syringe. "Anyways," he continued, "I noticed that you seem to be out of commission. A shame, really, since I've heard of the amazing feats you'd accomplished in Ishval." He pulled the needle out of the bottle and flicked the side of the syringe, dislodging any bubbles that may have accumulated. "During your first round, anyways," he added as he glanced over at her.

When his dark, ruthless eyes met hers, her heart sank as she slowly began to realize what he was going to do.

"You know what they do to dogs when they're out of commission and are no longer useful, don't you?" He didn't pause, not expecting her to answer. "Honestly, this isn't the way I wanted to see you go but," he shrugged nonchalantly, "Boss's orders. You're a liability."

She tried once more to more, silently begging and pleading for her body to respond, only to have her fingers twitch feebly in reply.

Seeing this, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Still defiant as ever aren't we, Lieutenant?"

_Please... No... Please!_

He grabbed her IV line and jerked it toward himself in silent frustration. With his free hand he grabbed her chart and skimmed it. "It looks like Gena was your last nurse..." Setting the chart back down, he pulled the needle and syringe from his pocket and stuck it into the line. "Oh no... Looks like she miscalculated your pain medication dosage, Lieutenant. A common mistake all hospitals suffer from, unfortunately, that can lead to... Devastating results."

His thumb went to the syringe's plunger and he slowly began to depress it.

A few moments later, Riza felt her arm warm slightly as the liquid made its way down the line, into her vein, and into the rest of her body. Almost instantly, she began to feel her muscles relax. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion washed over her, demanding that she close her eyes and sleep.

But she knew that it she slept, that would be it.

She'd never wake up again.

Riza tried desperately to push against those feelings, but quickly found that she was fighting an uphill battle.

The last thing she could do was act in defiance. She would not let them win.

Closing her eyes, she forced the Interrogator's face from her mind.

A second surge of warmth rushed into her vein.

Time was running out.

She replaced the Interrogator with a relaxed and smiling Roy Mustang.

That would be the last thing she'd see.

She silently apologized to him.

She wouldn't be able to follow him after all. She had hoped that when this was all done, that maybe, just maybe there could have been... Something.

Riza didn't know exactly what that 'something' was, but the thought comforted her.

A third surge of warmth. The tiredness she felt was unbearable. She just wanted to sleep.

But not before telling him.

Telling him that... She tried...

* * *

"Wait here," Edward commanded Winry and Mrs. Hughes after they had all barged into the hospital's waiting room.

Walking down the hallways with purpose, Edward quickly scanned the room numbers. _103 was what they told me last time... 112... 107... Ah ha!_

Edward stopped just outside the door with his hand hovering over the handle, realizing that it was almost closed.

Should he not go in? Were they doing something important? Having a private conversation?

He almost pulled away, but then quickly remembered the urgency of his message. Mustang would forgive him. This was important.

When he slowly pushed the door open, he paused for a second, trying to process the scene in front of him.

A tall, imposing black-haired man stood over Hawkeye's bed, a syringe in one hand and her IV line in another. But something about this scene was horribly, horribly wrong.

Edward knew instantly that this man wasn't a doctor. Whether it was the long, greasy hair or the ratted, dirt covered shoes that gave it away, Edward didn't know.

All he knew was that he suddenly found himself launching forward toward the intruder. An instant later, he slammed into the man's side, knocking both of them off of their feet and onto the ground.

Despite the man not sensing Edward's presence beforehand, he had quickly reacted, his right fist connecting with the young blond's jaw, sending him off his balance.

The intruder took his moment to try and scramble away, dropping the needle he had firmly grasped in his other hand.

Twisting around, Edward grabbed the man's foot and yanked it out from beneath him, causing him to crash to the ground. The young blond let out a yell of alarm as he scrambled onto the man, pinning him on his back. Grabbing the man's two arms, Edward held them down and snarled, "What the hell are you doing!?"

From beneath him, the man looked up and smirked, "I'm just a doctor tending to his patient."

"Bullshit," Edward snapped as he tightened his grip on the man's wrists. "What. Are. You. Doing," he asked again through gritted teeth.

"Fine," the intruder answered. "Simply visiting an old friend." Nodding toward the bed, he added, "And she's not looking too good."

Edward jerked his head around in order to see Hawkeye's bed. She was sleeping...

As he turned back to face the man, he began, "What the hell do you-"

In that instant, the man had successfully wormed one of his wrists from the boy's firm grip and it had disappeared. A second later, Edward felt a sharp pain in his side.

In that one moment, he let his guard down as he tried to make sense of the sudden, radiating pain.

The intruder took that moment as his chance.

In one swift movement, the man pushed himself upward and slammed Edward to the ground, knocking the wind out of the young blond. Pinning the boy down with one hand, the greasy-haired man raised the knife in his hand high above his head, a murderous gleam in his eye. "We should have finished you off right from the start," he snarled. "Well, this time you won't be so lucky!" The knife plummeted toward Edward's heart, stopping inches from it when a shot rang out.

The man looming over Edward suddenly slumped and fell back, collapsing onto the floor.

With the pressure and restraint off of his chest, Edward's hand instinctively groped his side, feeling the warm, sticky sensation of blood. The stimulation caused him to let out a strangled gasp as the pain ripped through him.

Swallowing hard, he tried desperately to push himself upward. A concerned woman's face quickly blocked his field of vision, her mouth moving rapidly in a silent command.

But he couldn't hear her over the pounding in his ears.

Reaching up with his blood-saturated hand, he pushed the nurse out of the way and tried scrambling to his knees. His shock had almost made him forget... _Hawkeye_...

What had that man done? What was going on?

He made it his objective to find out. He needed to... For Mustang. He had to... He...

Pushing himself up and nudging off the hands he felt on his shoulders, Edward struggled as he looked up and over the edge of the bed. He tried to speak, but found that his mouth had become dry.

Another round of pain ripped through him as he fell backwards and away from the bed.

Before hitting the ground, however, a force stopped suddenly stopped him.

Through his blurring vision, Edward caught a familiar set of panicked onyx eyes and black hair. _Mustang..._

He had to tell him.

But before he could, the darkness took over.

He tried...


	18. Impossibilities

Roy thrust his hands into his pockets and walked briskly through the waiting room and toward the patients' wing of the hospital.

Looking up, he saw a few familiar nurses walk by. Before they passed they each shot him an expecting smile; they'd grown used to him being there.

He felt the corners of his lips turn upward slightly, hopefully conveying a similar expression back to them.

That seemed to do the trick. With a nod, they passed quickly, heading to whatever destination they had in mind.

He instantly felt his smile fade.

They were haunting him… Both the images and his reaction to them.

He had broken down, giving into his long-suppressed emotions. The thought that he had made his stomach churn.

_He _was supposed to keep a level head.

_He _was supposed to take away his emotion.

_He _was supposed to be the strong one.

Now he was going to face her, and she could read him like a book.

She'd want to know what was wrong.

He honestly didn't think he had the strength to be there without thinking about it, much less try and keep this thoughts and feelings in check and to himself.

Now he was left wondering what had happened. She certainly hadn't attempted to speak or think about it, at least from what he could tell, apart from the nightmares.

And that's what killed him.

While she was left clinging to her newfound freedom, he was only left to wonder.

Between the pictures and her reactions of thrashing and crying out from the nightmares, he was left painting a picture in his mind about what had occurred… And it was not pleasant.

He knew he had no right to ask. She would talk about it when she would be able to.

So for now, he supposed, he'd resign himself to being by her side, just like she has been at his for so long.

And maybe when she was ready, he'd be ready too…

A slight tap on his shoulder pulled Roy from his thoughts. Turning to the nurse that was walking beside him and matching his pace, he raised his eyebrows in question.

"Hello, sir," she began politely. "Are you heading to Miss Hawkeye's room?"

He gave her a quick nod in reply.

"That's where I'm heading too. I was just there about ten minutes ago, but I now just realized that I forgot to write down her temperature. I'm going back right now to do that."

Roy smiled sincerely at her. He admired the hard work the staff was putting forth for them. Making a mental note to thank each of them individually when this was all done, he said, "We can head there together then."

She smiled back at him and nodded in response.

Coming up on Riza's room, Roy politely stopped just short of the door and gestured for the woman to enter first.

When she did, she stopped just short of the door frame and froze, a sudden scream erupting from her.

Alarmed, Roy whipped around the corner and into the room, only to find an unexpected and frightening scene before him.

A man straddling something, someone on the floor, a knife in his hand… A familiar mess of blond and red and black beneath him.

Fullmetal…

He didn't even fully realize what was happening until his gun was suddenly in his hands.

All he knew was that there was a threat.

There was a threat to one of his dearest subordinates…

And it _must _be eliminated.

A heartbeat later a deafening sound filled his ears.

The trigger had been pulled. The deed was done.

He watched as the tangled mess of grease and black fell backwards, crashing to the floor. In a bizarre way, it was sickeningly satisfying.

The threat was eliminated.

But now his attention was on Edward.

The nurse was already at his side, her worry-laced screams carrying themselves to his ears.

As he rushed forward, the young boy pushed her away and tried to scramble to his knees, his reddened hands clawing at Riza's sheets.

But as he moved closer, nearly in arm's reach, the young boy faltered and fell back.

Roy managed to thrust his arms out and slipped forward, just barely catching the young boy.

Looking down in a panic, he caught Edward's frantic, widened eyes, the boy's lips moving in a silent stream of words and rhetoric.

But just as soon as Edward had started, he stopped; his golden eyes wavering and crossing as he tried to remain conscious, trying to keep focused on Roy.

And that's when Roy noticed it.

Or rather, the extent of it.

What he had slipped in, he suddenly realized, was a fine layer of blood that had been on the floor.

Edward's blood.

He looked down once again, only to find that the boy's lids were now firmly shut.

Roy opened his mouth to scream, to command the boy to open them, but he could not hear his voice over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

There was blood.

There was a lot of it.

No. He couldn't have this. He _wouldn't_ have this.

Suddenly, a flurry of hands descending upon him, trying desperately to separate him from the young boy.

Roy clung to him, refusing to let go.

It wasn't until another voice broke through the silence that Roy let his guard down for a moment.

Dr. Marcoh was on the other side of Riza's bed, his authoritative yells silenced by his rapidly beating heart.

_Why?_

The hands returned, this time effectively removing the boy from his grip.

He fought fiercely against them, but they won.

A third time they returned, this time taking him in their grasp and pulling him to his feet.

They were forcing him away.

He tried again, futilely fighting against them, but abruptly stopped when he saw her.

Dr. Marcoh was leaning over her now, his hands pressed against her sternum, frantically pumping her chest up and down.

Riza's eyes were half-lidded, staring blankly forward.

Empty.

Hollow.

Another scream erupted from his lips, this time resonating through the air.

But the hands ignored his pleas, dragging him far and away from the two that needed him most.

* * *

Slowly becoming aware of his senses, Edward groggily opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to remember exactly where he was and what had happened. After a few moments, everything that had transpired rushed back into his mind.

With an audible gasp, Edward flew up into a sitting position, causing a burst of pain on his left side to flare up. He hissed a plethora of expletives as he clawed at his shirt, pulling it up enough to see the array of fresh stitches that accompanied the large, ugly scar on his side. Sucking in a sharp breath, he gingerly brushed his fingers over the closed, raised wound. _That's right..._

"You're awake…"

Startled by the voice, Edward sharply, only to find Roy Mustang seated next to his bed.

The man's face softened the moment Edward's eyes caught his. "I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, that's fine. I just…" _Wasn't expecting him here._ As he turned to see the General better, a sharp pain ripped through his side, causing him to wince.

Immediately Mustang was next to him, his hands on both of Edward's shoulders.

"Hey! Take it easy-"

Like hell he would.

"I'm fine," Edward snapped as he fought through the pain.

The Flame Alchemist's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Edward, you were-"

"Where's Hawkeye," Edward demanded.

The older man stopped, his face contorting into one that seemed to express immense pain and distress. After an awkward, drawn out pause, Mustang carefully said, "She's not here."

* * *

_Roy sat numbly as he stared down at the floor, counting the imperfections on the laminate flooring for the umpteenth time. It was all he could do in order to keep his mind from heading down a dark path._

_They had dragged him away and left him there, in a tiny, windowless room._

_Despite his demands to speak with Dr. Marcoh, the staff remained adamant in their refusal to let him leave. All that was disclosed to him was that there had been someone of unknown origin in her room._

_They said that Edward would be fine, but he couldn't see him yet. It was comforting… for the moment._

_He tried calling upon his feelings of frustration and anger and rage, but he couldn't._

_At that moment, he felt nothing._

_They needed him. And there he was; simply existing…_

"_General," Roy was snapped out of his 'existence' by the sound of Dr. Marcoh's voice. Looking up, he saw the doctor standing over to his side, a clipboard in his hands._

_When had he gotten there? Roy didn't even hear the door open._

_Roy stared desperately at the man, trying to decipher his solemn expression; but to no avail._

"_Come with me, please," Marcoh quietly instructed as he motioned for the man to follow._

"_Is she-"_

"_It's best that I show you," Marcoh answered cryptically as he turned and began to walk away._

_Roy rose in a dazed fashion, obediently following after the man, whom had led him to the elevator._

_The doctor said something else, but Roy was no longer listening, the man's voice simply blending into the background. He simply stared numbly at the small illuminated button the doctor had pressed once they had stepped inside._

B2.

_B2 was the sublevel used for only one purpose…_

_The hospital's morgue._

_He didn't even feel the elevator come to a stop._

_The doors opened and Marcoh stepped out and grasped the elevator's frame with his free hand in order to prevent the doors from closing._

_Roy looked up from the button and stared dully at the man._

_It was a mistake._

_Being here was a big fucking mistake._

_He refused to move._

_He wouldn't._

"_General," the doctor uttered, bringing Roy back to reality. His hardened gaze pierced through Roy, a slight feeling of annoyance emanating from him._

_But Roy no longer seemed to care. He slowly took a step forward, then another, each becoming increasingly heavier, as if his shoes were filled with cement._

_The doctor could feel what he wanted to feel. He didn't care._

_Because Roy Mustang no longer felt anything._

_Marcoh nodded soberly at a passing nurse as he stopped in front of Dr. Knox's laboratory's door, knocking on hit hardly._

_After a few moments, it slowly creaked open, revealing the doctor of death and ruin himself._

_Pulling the toothpick he had situated between his teeth, Dr. Knox grumbled, "'Bout time you showed up. I was just about to-"_

_Roy pushed past him and froze._

No.

No.

No.

_She was there. Her half-lidded eyes were now closed._

_Lying on the doctor's table. A thin __**white**__ sheet pulled up to her stomach._

White background.

_Unmoving._

Black and blue. Blue and black.

_He suddenly found himself at her side, his heart racing and his thoughts reeling._

_It was not possible._

_She wasn't-_

_She couldn't be-_

_He slowly reached up, his trembling fingers brushing her cheek._

_Cold skin was the reply to his touch._

_He just couldn't anymore…_

_He broke down._

_Leaning forward, Roy rested his forehead against hers, a sound that was a cross between a sob and gasp escaping his lips._

_All he could think was 'why.'_

_Why her?_

_Why not him?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?!-_

_He stopped as he felt something delicately brush against his ear, fragile fingers weaving themselves through his hair._

_Slowly he lifted his head, fighting against the ache in his heart that begged for him to lie down with her and die._

_But that ache quickly dissipated as his heart began to race._

_It was not possible…_

_Or maybe it was._

_His dark, widened eyes were met by a familiar and tired brown-eyed gaze._

_It took him a moment to process it, the impossibilities slowly sinking in and warming his soul._

_Trying to stifle it, but ultimately failing, Roy let out a strangled chuckle mixed with disbelief and bliss as he instinctively pressed his lips against her forehead._

_There were more questions than answers, but one thing was certain:_

_She and Edward were alive and another battle was won._


	19. Secrets Have a Cost

_Roy shook his head lightly when Riza tried to open her mouth to speak. "Save your strength… You need to rest."_

_She frowned slightly at his request, but complied, closing her mouth with a modest nod of her head._

_With one hand occupied, gently pressed against the side of her face and his thumb stroking her cheek, he reached up with his free hand and rubbed the area beneath his eyes. He hoped that in doing so he would wipe away any remnants of his breakdown. There was no longer a reason for tears, and yet he could still feel them forming._

_Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he reluctantly tore his gaze away from her face in order to eye Dr. Marcoh. Roy opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly shut it. He didn__'__t even know what to feel or even where to begin._

_So he decided to start with the most basic question… "How?"_

_Removing his hand from Roy__'__s shoulder, the doctor wearily reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "__Well, General, it__'__s a bit of a long story…"_

"_I have time," Roy replied shortly as he turned his attention back to Riza, his thumb still caressing her cheek._

"_Alright," Dr. Marcoh began, his voice softened. "It all started when I heard a scream."_

* * *

_Startled by the sudden scream he heard just down the hallway, Marcoh and the young nurse that was accompanying him quickened their pace. A sense of dread filled the doctor when he realized what room the scream had originated from. What had happened this time…?_

_However, nothing could prepare him for the chaos he was greeted with. On the floor nearest the bed was Roy Mustang, a bundle of blond and black and red in his arms. But just as Marcoh was about to rush over to them, he noticed an unidentified man in a white coat lying on the floor, his hand clutching his chest just below his heart. A second nurse was next to him, babbling incoherently as the man writhed in pain._

_It only took a moment for the pieces to click in Marcoh__'__s head. As he began to advance toward the Lieutenant__'__s bed, a small group of nurses pushed past him and made their way over to Edward and the General. Motioning for the nurse closest to him to follow, he rushed to the Lieutenant__'__s side__ and, noticing her half-lidded stare, grabbed her wrist, pressing his thumb firmly against it. After a few seconds his greatest fear was confirmed: there was no pulse. Quickly recalling his training, he found the center of her chest and began compressions._

_Another yell from one of his nurses forced his eyes upward briefly. Held high above her head was a small brown bottle. In an instant he recognized it. "Get me the Naloxone," he commanded harshly._

_With a wide-eyed nod the nurse was on her feet, vanishing out the door in seconds._

_As he moved his eyes back downward, he heard someone else cry out. Beginning the compressions again, he saw that Mustang was separated from Edward and was dragged to his feet. He knew without looking directly at him that the General__'__s eyes were focused on his Lieutenant._

_He could see him fighting against them, desperately trying to break away in order to get to her. But Marcoh couldn__'__t have that. Without looking up, he snapped, "Get him out of here!"_

_There was another struggle, but the General was quickly subdued and dragged out of the room._

_As soon as the General had disappeared, the nurse that he had appointed the task of delivering his drug had arrived, a small clear vial and a stethoscope in hand. After commanding her to continue compressions, he grabbed a syringe and needle, steadying his shaking hands as he plunged it into the vial__'__s top. Drawing out a decent amount, Marcoh hastily moved over to the IV line and drove the needle into it, depositing the entire amount into the tubing._

_As if she had read his mind, the nurse thrust the stethoscope toward him. Yanking it from her grasp, he swiftly implanted the earbuds into his ears and firmly pressed the diaphragm against the Lieutenant__'__s sternum and listened._

_Even through the dying commotion and chaos, he still managed to hear the purest of sounds: a small, dull _thump_. After a pause, it was soon followed by another… and then another; each one stronger than the next._

_His eyes scanning up to the nurse above him, he saw that she was standing anxiously, her hands clasped over her mouth in a silent show of__ worry._

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

_He slowly pulled the earbuds from his ears and draped the stethoscope around his neck. Mustering up the best expression he could, he shook his head languidly toward the nurse, signaling defeat._

_She gasped and stared at the Lieutenant in disbelief and grief. When she tried to step closer, Marcoh blocked her. Casting her a pleading look, he quietly asked that she retrieve Dr. Knox immediately._

_After dwelling for a moment, she obliged, turning on her heels and disappearing out the door._

_For the moment it was silent. At some point during the chaos, both Edward and the mystery man had been removed. Marcoh had no doubt that if they needed medical attention, they were already receiving it._

_By now the nurse__'__s footsteps had long faded. Reaching up, Marcoh gently prodded the Lieutenant__'__s shoulder._

_She refused to stir._

_Frowning, he did it again more forcibly._

_This time she sucked in a deep breath and began coughing violently, her eyes flying open in a mix of shock and confusion._

_Placing his large, calloused hand on her forehead and leaning in toward her ear, he murmured, "It__'__s alright, Lieutenant. It__'__s alright."_

_Her eyes flicked over to meet his, verifying that it was indeed someone she could trust. Upon recognizing him, she relaxed._

_Still leaning near her ear, he continued. "I__'__m going to need you to feign sleep for me, Lieutenant."_

_Her eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but she seemed to accept it, closing them with a heavy sigh. No doubt there was still a significant amount of the original drug in her bloodstream that was to blame. But as long as he kept monitoring her heart rate, she should be fine…_

_As he rose to his feet, the nurse returned with Dr. Knox in tow. Upon seeing who was in the bed, his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Marcoh._

"_Thank you, Julia. You are excused."_

_Both Knox and Marcoh watched as the nurse reluctantly nodded and whirled around, heading out of the door and out of sight._

_Closing the door behind him, Dr. Knox slowly strode toward the bed, stopping just short of it. Frowning down at the Lieutenant, he pulled his signature toothpick from his mouth and growled, "What the hell is this about, Marcoh?"_

"_I__'__ll explain in your lab," Marcoh replied wearily as he checked the Lieutenant__'__s pulse again, confirming that it was still present. "But I will say that I am going to need your help again..."_

_Ignoring the groan that this solicited, Marcoh gently tugged the thin, white sheet on Riza__'__s bed up and over her head, taking care not to block her nose or mouth._

* * *

"_Then why did you leave me in the dark," Roy asked agitatedly. His eyes were still focused on Riza, whom had reached up and pressed her hand against the one he had on her cheek, obviously welcoming the warmth and closeness._

"_It__'__s entirely possible that more of them infiltrated the hospital," Marcoh explained softly. "And if that__'__s the case, I didn__'__t want them taking notice of your lack of sorrow."_

_Finally turning toward the doctor in alarm, Roy began, "But if you think there are more of them, then Fullmetal-"_

"_-Is safe," Marcoh stated, finishing the General__'__s sentence. "While we had you confined, I made a few phone calls. I doubted that you__'__d trust anyone but your men, so I called them. Right now Lieutenant Breda and Master Sergeant Fuery are stationed outside Edward__'__s room. Their orders for the time being are to let no one, excluding myself and one other medical professional, in without proper identification."_

_Taking the doctor__'__s actions to heart, Roy nodded in approval. Looking back at Riza, he quietly asked, "And what about her?"_

"_As far as anyone is concerned," Dr. Marcoh started as he pulled a sheet of paper from his clipboard and placed it on the chair next to Roy, "Riza Hawkeye is dead."  
_

_Roy looked down at the paper, his eyes scanning it in disbelief. A death certificate… It almost looked real._

"_I__'__ve already gone ahead and called the Central Times with a brief obituary, detailing that for the moment there is no service planned. I specifically asked that it be published in Tuesday__'__s paper.__"_

_Roy nodded again. Tuesdays were slow in terms of paper sales, meaning that it was less likely one of her acquaintances would see the "news." But if _they _were watching the paper, they__'__d be sure to see it. And if they thought she was dead, they'd stop pursuing her..._

Them_… Roy didn__'__t want to ask, but he knew he had to. "And the man I shot?"_

_Looking down at his watch, Dr. Marcoh muttered, "He should be getting out of surgery soon."_

_Roy scowled. Part of him was thankful that the bullet had landed precisely where he meant it to, but another part of him had secretly hoped the man would have died. But now, at least, they had him alive for questioning. And Roy would be sure that he revealed _everything _to them._

_"I would like to see him as soon as possible," Roy demanded strongly._

_Marcoh opened his mouth to oppose him, but quickly shut it in order to collect his thoughts. Finally, he nodded slightly. "Alright, but only if I accompany you."_

Good enough, I suppose, _Roy thought to himself._

_"Alright General," Dr. Knox finally approached and addressed Roy. "Say your goodbyes; its time for us to go."_

_Roy glanced nervously down at Riza, whose eyes were now focused on the doctor._

_"You can come by later," the doctor said with a gruff. "I'm already expecting it."_

_"I've asked Dr. Knox to keep an eye on her at his home," Marcoh explained. "I figured it was something you'd agree to."_

_Without looking up from Riza, he nodded slowly. He didn't want to let her go._

_Turning her gaze back to him, she smiled wearily, leaning into his touch once more, causing his stomach to knot up. He really didn't want to go..._

_Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he sighed. "General," Dr. Knox said again. "The sooner you leave and finish up what you need to do, the sooner you can come by."_

_He was right, Roy supposed. But that didn't make him feel too much better._

_A knock on the door forced his eyes upward. Leaning forward slightly and shielding Riza, He watched the door suspiciously. Dr. Knox made his way over to it and unlatched it; opening it, he revealed a familiar blond second Lieutenant._

_His eyes instantly going to Roy, Lieutenant Havoc raised his arm in a salute. Following Dr. Knox inside, Marcoh explained, "I'm having Lieutenant Havoc accompany Dr. Knox and Lieutenant Hawkeye to his home for now. He's agreed to stay there until you arrive."_

_"Hello, sir," Havoc said quietly when he stopped on the other side of the table, his eyes drifting downward to look at Riza._

_Roy nodded silently in reply, knowing that Havoc would understand._

_"Ready," Dr. Knox asked Havoc with slight impatience._

_After a moment, Havoc nodded, his eyes still on Riza. He slowly moved to pick her up, but was stopped by Roy clearing his throat._

_"I'll do it," he said as he got to his feet and gently slipped one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back. Slowly lifting her, he inwardly noted how small she still was, and how little effort it took to lift her._

_Riza responded by leaning into him, resting her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes with a soft sigh._

_Following behind Dr. Knox and Havoc, Roy found that they had led him to a connected garage where a car had been waiting. Making his way over to it, Knox opened the door to the backseat and motioned for Roy to lay her inside._

_Looking down at her once more, Roy slowly ducked into the car and reluctantly rested her on the seat. For a moment he lingered, keeping his eyes on hers. Finally, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead once more. He didn't care who was watching at that point._

_"I'll see you soon," he said softly as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek._

_She watched him for a moment, her eyes seemingly searching for something in his expression. Finally, she pursed her lips together and nodded indolently, this action hinting at her tiredness._

_He reluctantly stepped away and allowed Havoc to climb in and squat on the floor beside her. "I'll take good care of her, sir," he reassured the General._

_Roy didn't doubt it. He silently nodded, stepped back and closed the door._

_"I'll see you later," Dr. Knox confirmed. After sliding into the driver's side, he rolled down the window and added, "Make sure you aren't followed."_

_Again, Roy nodded, keeping his words to himself._

_He watched as the garage door opened and the car started. After stuttering for a moment, the car was put into drive and began to roll away._

_Roy lingered for a while after they left, watching the spot where he had last seen the car._

_"Are you ready to see Edward," Marcoh asked, suddenly appearing next to the General._

_Without peeling his eyes away from the spot, Roy shook his head yes._

_"Alright," Marcoh said as he gently squeezed the General's shoulder. "However, I do have one condition I need you to fulfill."_

_Turning to finally look at the doctor, Roy eyed him curiously._

_"Save for the people I mentioned, everyone working at this hospital knows that Lieutenant Hawkeye is 'dead,'" he explained. Turning his gaze to the General, he slowly added, "And because of that, you cannot tell Edward."**_

* * *

"Where's Hawkeye?"

Roy winced visibly. He knew that the question was coming, but that didn't mean he was at all prepared in answering it. In fact, he was still struggling with what exactly to say to the boy.

He couldn't tell Edward just yet. After working with him for years, Roy knew that the boy feigned ignorance poorly. If he accidentally said something, the entire plan could fall to pieces, jeopardizing both his safety and Riza's.

He needed to come up with something quickly, reminding himself that anything he would say had to be crafted delicately. He had to remember that he was doing this to protect all of them; despite the growing pain in his chest from having to lie to Edward, Roy knew that this was what was right.

The longer he allowed his pause to draw out, the more desperate the boy's face became. Golden eyes flitted about, scanning Roy's face in an attempt to try and read the man.

Before he could stop himself, Roy finally uttered, "She's not here."

The boy's face fell slightly in confusion. "Not here," he echoed, "What does that mean?"

He had faltered.

Desperately trying to regain his footing, Roy added, "They moved her downstairs… temporarily." He silently prayed that the boy had forgotten the hospital's layout.

Edward's eyes flashed, searching Roy's face suspiciously. Trying to ignore the fact that he was withholding such a secret from the boy, he did his best to soften his expression.

Finally, Edward seemed to accept it. Relaxing, the young boy leaned back on his arms and sighed heavily. He still wasn't one-hundred percent awake yet. "Okay... Thanks for telling me," he murmured.

Roy felt a pang of guilt. In reality, he hadn't _lied _to the boy... He had simply resisted telling him the whole story. As soon as Marcoh gave them the go-ahead, he'd remove Edward from the hospital and explain to him immediately the situation. Still, he couldn't help but feel morose. He'd manipulated and hidden the truth from the former alchemist often, but it never got any easier. He truly hated doing it, but it was always to protect the young man... He just sometimes didn't realize it.

"Anyways," Roy began again, "I'm going to go let Winry know you're awake. She's been worried about you."

"Right," Edward replied softly. "Okay..."

"And Alphonse should be here soon, no doubt he'll-"

"What!?"

He was taken aback by the boy's sudden outburst. Wouldn't he be happy to see his brother?

"Why the hell would you have him come here," Edward growled as his face twisted in pain. "They might come after him! They-"

"Left a note. I know," Roy replied. Besides doctors finding the note in the boy's pocket, Winry had also told him what Edward had said.

Edward stared at the man with incredulity, his mouth slightly agape. Finally he managed to gather his thoughts. "Then why would you bring him here," he asked, his voice strained.

"Think about it for a minute, Edward," Roy appealed to him. "Would you rather he remain in Resembool with little to no protection, or would you prefer him to have the protection of the military?"

Still not fully convinced, Edward argued, "But how will he get here? He can barely walk-"

Roy raised his hand to silence the disgruntled boy. "I've sent Major Armstrong to bring him back-" Ignoring the hard stare he received from Edward, he quickly added "-He was given strict orders to handle Alphonse with care."

"But Granny-"

"Decided to visit some friends for a while," Roy explained. He could see Edward slowly start to accept the situation.

"So... They're alright?"

"Yes," Roy said reassuringly. "I promise."

Finally, Edward allowed himself to relax, slowly sinking back onto the bed. Sighing, he muttered, "So when can I get out of here?"

"As soon as Dr. Marcoh says you're ready," Roy replied matter-of-factly. "He says as soon as your-" Hearing the sound of the room's door opening, he turned to look over his shoulder, seeing the doctor himself in the doorway.

The doctor showed no indication on his face that he harbored a great secret. After nodding toward Roy, he strode over to the bed and fixed his eyes on Edward. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," Edward replied with a shrug. "When do I get outta here?"

Marcoh chuckled lightly. "In due time, Edward. You took quite a beating."

Edward scoffed. "I'm feeling fine," he protested.

"I know you are," Marcoh noted. "We just need to observe you for a while. I'll be back in about an hour or so to check again."

Edward turned away slightly, clearly displeased by the news, though he said nothing else.

"General," Dr. Marcoh addressed Roy as he turned his attention to the Flame Alchemist. "I have something I need to show you."

Roy felt his heart rate spike. This was it.

Feeling Edward eyeing him curiously, he tried his best to remain casual and confident. "Of course, doctor," he replied nonchalantly as he got to his feet. After smoothing out the wrinkles in his uniform out of habit, Roy followed after the doctor. Before stepping out into the hallway, however, he paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes catching Edward's. "Please listen to the doctor and rest up," he said with a slight hint of authority in his voice. Changing his tone slightly after that, he added, "You have a lot of people that care about you." Turning back to follow Marcoh, Roy briskly walked away before he could hear the boy's reply, but not before recognizing a pair of salutes from Breda and Fuery.

Following Marcoh to the elevator, Roy watched as he pressed the button for the fourth floor, the top of the hospital. Neither said a word, preparing themselves for what was to come.

Finally the elevator came to a rest. As soon as the doors opened, Roy quickly trailed after Marcoh and toward a room where two guards were stationed outside. Nodding to them, he stepped into the room and stopped, his dark eyes coming to rest on the room's occupant.

Noticing his visitor, the greasy-haired patient slowly raised his hand, shooting the General a mocking salute. "Hello General," he said huskily in between wheezing breaths, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."


	20. Realization

**A/N: Warning. **_Ed's mouth this chapter..._

* * *

Trying to push the swell of anger and hate away, Roy Mustang confidently strode over to the man's bed and stopped, focusing his silent glare on him.

The stranger looked up and responded with a smirk. "Come to interrogate me, _General_," he asked tauntingly, his voice filled with self-satisfaction.

Suddenly it dawned on Roy. This was the man that knew where Riza had been for those three months. This was the man that no doubt knew everything that had happened to her.

...This was the man that nearly took her away from him again.

Without thinking, his arm shot out from his side, his hand grasping the front of the man's shirt. Pulling him upward, Roy leaned over the bed, his face inches from the man's. "Who are you," he snarled, no longer able to cage the fury that had been pent up inside of him.

Seemingly unfazed by the General's outburst, the man pulled his lips back into a twisted smile, revealing a set of yellow, cracked teeth. "Why, I'm your _precious_ Lieutenant's murderer," he spat.

At that Roy saw red.

He almost took her.

He almost stole her.

He almost killed her...

Suddenly he was pushed away from the man by an outside force. Stumbling backwards, he caught himself on the wall and looked up, his fiery glare focusing back on the man's bed. Standing between him and the intruder was Dr. Marcoh, his piercing gaze directed at the General.

From behind him the man coughed and sputtered, trying desperately to catch his breath.

Marching forward, Marcoh firmly gripped Roy's arm and began to pull him toward the door.

His eyes never left the man, whom was now clutching his chest and wheezing heavily.

Before he was dragged outside, the man managed to catch enough breath to yell, "I'll see you soon, General! And then... I'll tell you whatever you want!"

After Marcoh slammed the door, Roy yanked his arm away and took a few steps from the man.

"What was that," he heard the doctor rumble from behind him. "He just got out of an extremely intense surgery, General. You very well could have killed him-"

"Maybe I should have," Roy snapped without thinking. "You know what he-"

"I know what he did and didn't do," Marcoh shot back as he grabbed the General's arm again, guiding him away from the door. "You need to remember what _didn't _happen," he said as he lowered his voice to a hiss. " Had I know you would react this way, I would have _never _brought you here."

Focusing his cold gaze back on the doctor and taking a threatening step forward, Roy countered, "You heard what he said. He's _enjoying _this!"

"You know what you know," Marcoh growled back as he too took a step forward. After matching his glare with the General's for a few moments, Marcoh finally sighed and took a step back, rubbing his eyes wearily. "I think it's best you leave, General."

Roy watched him for a moment, his eyes flitting about, taking in the man's expression. Finally, he too sighed and took a step back, folding his arms across his chest. "I think so too," he said, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen.

"You are welcome to come and see Edward whenever you want to while he is here, but I am asking that you not return to this floor without me. If we want him to talk, we can't have you up here scaring the daylights out of him," Marcoh explained.

Roy considered what he said for a moment, then finally replied with a quick nod. From what he saw, he doubted he could scare the man... Regardless, if it meant they'd have a more cooperative suspect, he'd do whatever was needed of him.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, the remaining bits of anger finally leaving his stomach.

Seeing that the General had finally calmed down, March said, "For now I don't want _you _alone, General, so I am going to call a car to come for you to take you to Knox's home. Is that acceptable?"

Roy shrugged and then nodded in agreement. As he watched Dr. Marcoh turn and walk away, Roy slowly followed behind, but not without first glancing at the stranger's room over his shoulder one last time.

* * *

Edward had been awake for a day and a half now. Despite his constant reassurances that he was alright, Dr. Marcoh still refused to release him.

Mustang stopped by briefly a few times a day, but always seemed distracted. When Edward would sneakily pry about Hawkeye, Mustang would quickly change the subject, oftentimes muttering that he had been there too long and needed to go.

Winry stopped by once or twice and stayed longer, though once her ride was there she had to go. They were keeping her somewhere safe, but she wasn't allowed to tell him, resulting in a grumble about secrets from the young blond teen. She reassured him that she was alright and that Dr. Marcoh mentioned that he'd be able to leave soon.

But soon wasn't soon enough...

Of all the people that visited him though, there was one that he was anxiously waiting on. After Mustang mentioned it, Edward wanted nothing more than to see-

"Al," Edward exclaimed when he saw him ease his way into the room.

The instant his older brother's eyes caught his, Alphonse smiled broadly. "Brother!" Hurrying as quickly as he could, Al made his way over to Edward's bedside.

Sitting up and ignoring the pain on his left side, Edward accepted his younger brother's embrace, thankful he couldn't see the wetness that had found its way into his eyes.

Without dropping his smile, Al moved back and fell back into the chair near Edward's bed.

For the rest of the afternoon and well after the sun had set, the two brothers talked, catching up on things their brief phone calls wouldn't allow them to.

"Did they tell you anything," Edward finally asked.

The younger Elric shook his head. "No. All they told me was what happened, Brother. So they haven't told you anything?"

"No," Edward grumbled. "Every time I ask a nurse they get all weird and say things about 'patient confidentiality' or whatever. I'm half thinking of just going down myself... Just to make sure she's okay."

"Did they tell you what room," Al asked curiously.

Edward shook his head. "No. All Mustang said was that she wasn't 'here' anymore and that they moved her downstairs temporarily."

Al raised his brows. "Did he mean to one of the basement levels? Because there aren't any rooms on the first floor anymore, remember Brother?"

Edward nodded in agreement. He remembered alright. After the Promised Day the overuse of the rooms in the hospital, especially the ground floors, left many in disrepair. While they were still remodeling and rebuilding, many of the rooms were still blocked off.

"I guess," Edward pondered, trying to remember what exactly was on the sub-levels to begin with... After failing to remember, he shrugged it off. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. Let's just go down ourselves. We don't even need to stop. We just...need to walk by," Edward ended quietly, almost uncertainly.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he didn't have the courage to go and face her just yet. At that moment, he only had bits and pieces of information regarding her condition, and it made him cringe.

Would she reject his presence? Did she hate him? The thought of her loathing him formed knots in his stomach. She had been nothing but kind to and understanding of him for all of the years that he has known her. The idea that he shattered that trust and friendship made his heart ache.

"But Brother," Alphonse whispered, snapping Edward out of his thoughts, "What about Havoc and Breda?"

_Oh yeah... _He had forgotten that they were stationed outside of his door. They too have been secretive and cryptic in their responses whenever he asked them. He doubted they'd accompany Al and him... Let alone let them go off on their own.

He wracked his brain for a minute, trying to figure out how they could get past them without them noticing.

Then it hit him.

Leaning closer to Al, he whispered back, "I think I have an idea."

* * *

The two brothers chatted idly until they heard Havoc excuse himself for a quick smoke break. Now was their chance.

Taking advantage of the moment, Edward painfully yet quietly slipped out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft _click_. Moments later he emerged, the left side of his shirt stained a dull red. "Ugh, fuck! It hurts," he cried out as he staggered forward a few paces and into view of the doorway.

"Brother, what happened?!" Alphonse cried out with concern.

No doubt hearing the commotion, Lieutenant Breda burst into the room. His eyes widened in panic when he saw the redness on Edward's shirt. "What-what-?"

"I think I ripped out my stitches," Edward moaned as he sank into the wall. Eyeing Breda wearily, he exclaimed, "Can you get a nurse? It-ah; it fucking hurts!" Grabbing his side, he watched as Breda began to internally freak out, no doubt realizing that he has never seen the former alchemist react to pain in such a way.

Without a word, the Lieutenant nodded his head quickly and raced out of the room.

Smirking at his theatrics, Edward quickly motioned for his younger brother to follow. Poking their heads out the door, they saw that, for the moment, the hallway was empty. "C'mon," Edward whispered as he ushered Alphonse to a closed door that was diagonal from his room. After opening it, the two snuck inside and closed it behind them.

Reaching up and groping at the air, Edward found a small metal cord and yanked it, illuminating the small room. Just as he had hoped, it was a supply closet. He motioned for Alphonse to seat himself in a spare wheelchair, already taking notice of his younger brother's exhaustion.

After Alphonse sat down, he pressed his ear to the door and listened, but heard nothing. Frowning, he opened the door a crack and peered out, noticing that no one was around. How far had Breda gone...?

Regardless, this was their opportunity to move. Pushing the door fully open, Edward pushed Al out and began wheeling him down the hallway. From all the times he spent in the hospital, he knew this level well. And right here should be... Bingo.

Pressing the 'down' arrow outside the elevator, he quickly looked both ways to confirm that no one was coming. With a small _ding_ the doors opened. In a flash the two brothers were inside, the door already closing behind them.

Looking up at his older brother, Al asked, "Where to first, Brother?"

Edward leaned forward and pushed the _B2 _button. "The first basement floor was mostly administration if I remember correctly, so let's at least start with B2 and work our way up."

"Sounds good," Alphonse agreed as he looked up at his older brother. "By the way, what _is _that in your shirt," he asked as he gestured to Edward's side.

Grinning, Edward responded, "The anti-microbial soap they have in the bathroom."

With a small laugh, Alphonse shook his head, "Only you would think of such a thing, Brother."

Finally a sharp _ding _indicated that they had reached their desired level. Once the doors opened, Edward wheeled Alphonse out and stopped as he looked back and forth. "Hmm... It doesn't really look like there are any rooms down here, huh Al?"

Shivering slightly, Al nodded, "Yeah. It's too cold down here anyways."

"Yeah, let's go back," Edward muttered as he turned back to the elevator and pressed the '_Up_' button. Looking up at the illuminated numbers above the door, he saw that someone had called it before him, noting that it was now up on the third level. "I guess we can try-" He stopped as he heard a pair of footsteps echoing down one of the nearby hallways. "Damn it!" If they were caught, their little excursion would be over...

Grabbing the handles on Al's wheelchair, Edward swiftly made his way over to a nearby steel door. Thrusting it open he pushed Al inside and followed him, closing it briskly behind him. Leaning against it, he pressed his ear to it and listened as the rushed set of steps bypassed the door. With a sigh he turned back to his younger brother, only to that he had rolled toward the center of the room. Walking over to him, Edward apologized, "Sorry Al. It looks like the floor's sloped."

Alphonse shook his head. "It's alright, Brother. I didn't even notice; I was too distracted by this room." Turning his eyes back to it, he murmured, "What is this place?"

Edward looked up for the first time and rotated his head around. There were a set of stainless steel tables, a desk and some chairs, cement flooring... However, his eye was immediately drawn to the wall directly to the left of them. It looked like a wall of large cabinet drawers.

Moving forward slightly in order to view them better, he finally began putting the pieces together. The unusually cold temperature, the sloped floors... The tables.

It was the hospital's morgue.

"Al," he whispered uneasily as he clutched the chair's handles, "We need to g-"

As he began to turn away, something on one of the cabinets caught his eye. Something familiar...

Letting go of Al's chair, he absently walked forward, as if in a trance. Stopping in front of it, he reached up, hand trembling, brushing his fingers across the handwritten notecard that read:

_Hawkeye, Riza_

_Date of death: 11 November 1915_

_Destination: Crematorium_

"A-Al," Edward choked as he took one step back, then another. "I-I found her..."

* * *

"Roy," Riza murmured as she turned her head to look at her superior officer. He had fallen asleep sitting up again...

With a snort he straightened himself up and blinked a few times. Seeing that she was watching him, he smiled lightly and reached forward and grasped her hand. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, still waking up.

Shaking her head, she replied, "It's fine. I just didn't want you to strain yourself in such an uncomfortable position."

His smile broadening slightly, he assured her, "I've slept through worse." Standing and yawning, he stretched his arms above his head. "Is there anything you need?" Turning toward the door, he added, "If you're hungry, I could-"

"Sir, I'm getting automail."

She saw him freeze in his steps. Watching his back intently, she saw his shoulders slump. Finally, he turned back to her, his mouth opened as if he were about to reply. After appearing to consider answering, he decided against it, shutting his mouth abruptly.

He was speechless.

She had been thinking about it for a while now. Ever since she had come to terms with her condition, she knew that there would have to be another step to take.

The thought of having a simple prosthetic wasn't enough. She wouldn't be able to continue protecting him with that. No... She needed to be able to function again; she needed her life back.

"I've... been thinking about it for a while now," she admitted quietly. "And after what happened, I... I can't accept being useless."

He slowly moved forward and knelt by her bed, taking her hand in his again. Looking down at it, he murmured, "Riza, this isn't something you can just decide... It's a painful recovery and-"

"I _have _been thinking about it," she reiterated, "And I've decided that I am."

"Riza," he began again, his expression pained, "Please-" Hearing a knock on the doorframe, they both focused on the man that had interrupted them.

Leaning against the frame, Dr. Knox grumbled, "General, there is a very... concerning phone call for you downstairs."

Seeing Roy turn back to her, he said, "I'll be right back. Then we can talk about this." With that he got up, disappearing down the hallway.

Returning shortly after, she noticed that his face had grown pale, and there was a sort of anger mixed with pain in his eyes. Walking briskly to her, he murmured, "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I promise I will be back soon to discuss this." Absently leaning forward and kissing her briefly on the forehead, he whirled around and marched out of the room.

As she watched after him, she sighed. It didn't matter what he thought... she had already made up her mind.

* * *

Picking up the doctor's car keys, Roy asked agitatedly, "Mind if I take your car?"

Knox shook his head. "Sure. Just no dents. You can go through my entrance so you aren't seen." After a quick pause, he added, "Was it about-"

"Yes." He didn't even have to say. He knew that Dr. Knox had an idea of whom this was about. "The damn kid doesn't know when to give up..."

Scoffing lightly, Knox raised a brow. "You're right; he doesn't. But remember: It's because of _his _determination that she's here."

"I know," Roy answered hurriedly over his shoulder as he opened the door and walked out into the cool autumn night.

_And I _am _thankful..._

* * *

**A/N: **_And _that _is how this story came to be. My original idea was _"What would it be like if Hawkeye had automail?"

_Originally this story was going to be just Royai, but then my best friend got me into Parental!RoyEd, so I decided to include that. The original concept was going to take place 5 years after the Promised Day and was going to start after a targeted bomb blast in Central by a group of renegades. How the story has changed..._

_Note about the sloped floors. I don't know if most morgues, etc. are like this, but I included the sloped floors so that Al rolled into the center of the room. My thought with that is the floors would be directed toward drains in the center of the room; drains for blood, bodily fluids, saline, etc..._

_And I know that wasn't the interrogation you were looking for, but the real one will be in the chapter after the next. I did have my reasons for including this one though..._

_Anyways, next chapter will be titled "Titanium" and will contain some Parental!RoyEd. Plus, Edward and Riza will FINALLY come face to face. _

_Thank you to all that have reviewed, favorited, and followed so far! We've made it to Chapter 20! (It definitely did not end up being the 20-25 chapters I predicted...). Thanks for sticking with me through all of this!_


	21. Trust Me

As soon as he had stepped into the room, Roy could feel the hatred and feelings of betrayal emanating from the young blond. And where their eyes locked, he was met with a raging inferno embedded in Edward's glare.

When he had registered who had just entered the room, Edward attempted to surge forward out of his seat. The two soldiers standing at either side of him quickly put an end to his movement by pushing his shoulders down and forcing him into the chair. Probably realizing he would not be allowed up, he focused his seething glare on the General. "You lying son of a bitch," he spat venomously as he narrowed his piercing eyes.

Ignoring the brutal barrage of words the boy sent toward him, Roy's eyes wandered over to his younger, quieter brother. He noticed Alphonse was seated in a wheelchair; his head hung low and his hands folded in his lap. For a moment his eyes lingered on the young boy, but he never once looked up, instead lowering it further as the bombardment of insults from his brother continued.

Training his eyes back to Edward, he stopped and held his gaze when the boy slammed his fists on the chair's arms and snarled, "You didn't even have the decency to tell me outright, huh?! That-that she-"

"That's enough, Edward," Roy shot back as he tightened his glare, stopping the boy mid-tirade.

Edward was about to fire back when he clenched his jaw shut. Turning his head away, he looked toward the ground in disgust, his form quaking with rage.

Looking up at the two soldiers present on either side of the boy, Roy addressed them hardly. "You two are excused. Go and wait outside until I permit you to reenter."

The two men cast wary glances toward Roy; their eyes then slowly scanning down to the furious young boy seated between them.

Frowning at their reluctance, Roy snapped, "That's an _order_."

Hesitantly they pulled their hands off of Edward's shoulders and took a step away. He watched as they then silently saluted and turned away, pulling open and closing the massive steel door behind them.

As soon as he made up his mind what he was going to say, Roy looked to Edward, whom was still seated. Even from where he was standing, he could still feel the raw emotions of bitterness, distrust, and resentment that hung in the air around him. Words would not be enough for the boy.

"Get up," Roy commanded the young blond.

Looking up, narrowing his golden eyes and bearing his teeth, Edward spat, "I'm not listening to _anything_ youhave to say."

Without another word, Roy strode over to the boy and grabbed his right wrist. With one forceful yank he pulled the boy to his feet and began to tow the resistant young blond toward the cabinet-like doors that lined the wall.

Edward responded by trying fruitlessly to jerk his arm away. When the older man's grip proved to be iron-tight, he reached up and dug the nails of his other hand into Roy's arm and began tugging again. "What are you doing," he snarled as he fought against his grip.

Ignoring the pain radiating throughout his arm, Roy gave the boy's arm one final snap, nearly throwing Edward off his balance. Dropping it, he fished Dr. Knox's keys from his pocket and began flipping through them until he found one that matched. Reaching up, he inserted the key into the padlock on the drawer with Riza's name on it and turned it, popping it open.

"What are you-" Edward began to demand as he began to back away, his golden eyes now widened in horror.

"Words won't be enough for you, Edward," Roy responded levelly as the padlock clattered to the cement floor. "So it's best to show you." Grabbing the handle of the door, Roy threw it open and reached in, pulling out the steel table that was inside. "Tell me, do you see anything," he asked as he turned to face the blond.

He watched as Edward's eyes went from the empty table back up to Roy, then back to the table again. For a moment he said nothing as he took one step forward, then another, until he was a few feet from the General. Scanning his face, Roy saw it contort in confusion, then disbelief, and finally realization. "I… don't see anything," he started slowly as he focused his dazed glance on the General.

* * *

The hatred and rage that he had felt toward Mustang had almost been unbearable.

Seeing the emotionless expression on the Flame Alchemist's face, however, was what set him over the edge.

How could he stand there before him and not express any emotion whatsoever? His dearest subordinate, the woman he _loved_, was dead and he didn't even bat an eye. How could he stand in the same room where she laid without showing anything?

Did he even have a heart? Did he even really care?

It was as if Edward himself had shouldered the man's sadness and rage for him. Someone obviously had to…

It took everything he had not to try and fight off the two soldiers that held him down and beat the daylights out of the black-haired man. He had trusted Mustang… and the he let him down…

Edward wouldn't listen to him. Why should he? What did he have to say to turn this all around?

There was nothing that could be said to him to make him feel any better; because once again he had been too late.

Too late in returning to her in Ishval.

Too late getting to the hospital.

Maybe he shouldn't have told Mrs. Hughes to go the way she did. He was sure that there was a faster way to the hospital. If he had been faster, better… This wouldn't have happened.

And now he held the burden because Roy Mustang certainly wasn't.

And it was excruciatingly heavy.

After he had snarled a reply to the dark-haired man, Edward was both surprised and appalled when Mustang grabbed him and began dragging him toward the freezer.

Hadn't enough happened? What more was there to prove?!

He fought and struggled, but Mustang knew that his right arm was still considerably weaker than his left, and his grip was unshakable.

Edward's surprise turned to horror when Mustang let him go and _opened_ the drawer. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the inevitable sight he would see… Until he heard Mustang say, "Tell me, do you see anything?"

With that he willed his eyes to open, and forced them to look at the… empty table.

There was nothing inside.

Hawkeye wasn't there…

It was completely empty.

"I… don't see anything," he murmured as he took a final step forward and finally looked at Mustang, finally s_eeing him_.

He hadn't noticed it before, but the man's face looked worn and pained. He had circles under his dark eyes and a semi-permanent frown on his face. Had he honestly looked like that the entire time? Had Edward been too focused on what he was feeling without even truly seeing Mustang?

"Exactly," Roy finally answered wearily as he pushed the drawer back in and closed the door. "I know what it looks like Edward, but please understand that I told you what I did in order to protect the both of you."

"Protect the both of us," Edward quietly echoed back as he began to accept what he had begun to piece together in his mind. "Then that means…"

"Yes," Mustang answered. "But again, I don't want to dwell here." Turning his attention toward Dr. Marcoh, Edward say Mustang shoot the doctor a silent question.

Marcoh appeared to answer it with a solemn nod.

"So," Mustang said as he focused back on Edward, "I want to show you so that you can see for yourself. After all, you've always seemed to be a visual learner."

Disregarding the pathetic attempt at lightening the situation, Edward watched the man for any hidden meanings in his words, but he could not find any.

Seemingly sensing the boy's wariness, Mustang asked, "Do you trust me?"

Edward pondered it for a moment. His words seemed true and his actions reflected what he _should _feel if they really were true.

Should he trust him? Maybe…

Still, he could not ignore the fact that the man's face changed when he seemingly laid everything on the table; because now there seemed to be a certain… brightness to his face; though it was miniscule.

Should he trust him…?

Nodding his head slowly, his eyes meeting the Flame Alchemist's, Edward finally replied, "Yes."

* * *

The car ride to wherever they were going seemed to take forever, though later Edward had realized that it was only a fifteen minute drive.

Perhaps it was because the awkward silence that dragged out between every conversation between Al and the General seemed too long.

Or maybe it was because Mustang had tried to fill them in with a few more details and realized Edward wasn't completely listening, even though he should have… Because now his mind was racing.

Mustang told them that she was alive. And now he was going to see her.

He should be happy and relieved. But why wasn't he?

Was it because deep down he could feel the overwhelming sense of guilt he had before had begun to resurface? Or the fact that he didn't even know what to say?

Despite getting what he had wanted, to make sure everything was okay, he wasn't entirely thrilled to see Hawkeye face-to-face yet.

The thoughts began swirling in his head again. Did she hate him? Would she not even want to see him, citing his carelessness and lack of concern as the reason? It was slowly beginning to push to the surface, making his stomach churn with uneasiness.

Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts when he felt the car stutter and stop. Looking up, he realized that they were in front of Dr. Knox's house.

Slowly he opened the door and moved mechanically to the front, where he helped Al slide out of the front seat. Taking his time, he followed after Mustang with Alphonse's arm draped over his shoulders, taking extra care in making sure his younger brother got up the steps alright.

Once inside, the doctor swooped in and took over for him, cautiously ushering Alphonse to the tiny living room where he spent a majority of his time, leaving Edward and Mustang in the kitchen.

Edward was about to follow behind when a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him. Whirling around, he saw Mustang eyeing him with expectation. Feeling the nervousness pooling in his gut, Edward realized that it was now or never. With a slight nod he signaled to the older man that he was ready.

Turning on his heels, Mustang raised a hand, beckoning for him to follow.

Stepping lightly behind him, Edward turned his gaze downward and obliged, trailing behind the black-haired man as he made his way slowly up the stairs.

Stopping in front of the last door to the left in the upstairs hallway, he watched as Mustang raised his fist and lightly rasped on the door. Edward swallowed hard as the guilt and doubt began to consume him, reluctantly followed Mustang as he opened the door and entered the room.

* * *

After a hearing a light knock, Riza confirmed that one of the voices she had heard downstairs was indeed Roy's. What she didn't expect, however, was that when he would come up, a young familiar blond would follow him in, whose eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

She watched as Roy ushered him in, but as he himself was about to follow Edward inside, Dr. Knox appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, whispering something in his ear. After nodding, he turned back toward her and raised his brows and opened his mouth, as if to speak. Then, however, he shut it, instead casting her a look of uncertainty.

She nodded toward him and shot him a small smile in response, dismissing him. Obviously that wasn't what he wanted, because he bit his lower lip in contemplation, trying to decide whether or not he'd follow through with Dr. Knox's request. However, the hardened glance she answered him with insisted that he go.

Riza watched as he reluctantly raised his hand to tap Edward's shoulder, forcing the boy to lift his head. He murmured something to the boy, which resulted in a look of panic to reflect in his golden eyes. Edward attempted to step in the direction that Roy was heading, but was effectively blocked by the older man. After that Roy closed the door, leaving Edward and her alone.

"Hello Edward," she said as she tilted her head slightly and smiled. Now she could see for herself that he was okay. Roy told her that Edward was stopping by when that… man had gotten to her, resulting in a tussle between the two.

She was where she was now because of him.

Barely raising his eyes to her, he murmured a meek "Hi" back.

That was… unusual. "Why don't you come and sit down," she asked as she motioned to the chair that Roy had usually occupied.

The youth complied, though he tried to look anywhere _but _ather. When he seated himself, he stared downward, nervously clutching at the cloth of his pant legs. After a few moments passed, he said nothing, the anxious air about him becoming thicker by the second.

His reaction to her condition was not what she expected. Edward had been around plenty of wounded and ill before and never batted an eye, talking to them in an attempt at normalcy. Now he was acting completely out of character to his norm. After the silence continued to stretch for a whole minute, she finally decided that that was enough. Clearing her throat, she said, "Edward…"

In response he mumbled something unintelligible and hushed while he continued to look away.

Still at a loss for his behavior, she asked him what he had said. What he had responded by, however, was not what she had expected.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured as he raised his head slightly, though he kept his eyes cast downward.

_Sorry? _Now she was really confused. What would he have to be sorry about? "Edward, I don't understand-"

"It's because of me that all of this happened," he blurted as he clenched already ghostly white fists tighter. "If I had just listened to orders and stayed with you like I was supposed to, then this wouldn't have happened and you'd be in Ishval and-"

She watched with bewilderment as the boy continued to chastise himself, citing his guilt and responsibility for what had happened as he listed off every instance he could.

_That_ was why he wouldn't look her in the eye. He blamed himself for what had happened to her….

Once she managed to find her voice, Riza said, "Edward…"

He either didn't hear her or didn't heed her subtle request that he stop, instead continuing with his self-berating.

"Edward…"

He continued on, his eyes still fixated on the floor. "You have every right to hate me and-"

"Edward," she shouted forcibly in a third attempt for him to stop.

He flinched at the sound of her all-to-familiar "military voice" and stopped, but kept his eyes focused on his lap.

Reaching out, she used her index and middle fingers to guide his chin upward until his golden eyes met her softened mahogany ones. Keeping them there as support, she calmly asked, "Why are you saying this," as her eyes searched his face. She could see the shame painted across it. He truly believed what he was saying… "You don't honestly believe that-"

"I-I do," he choked out as his face fell. "If I hadn't-"

"If you hadn't left, _you _wouldn't be here," Riza replied softly. She had his undivided attention now.

His face mixed with confusion and disbelief. As he opened his mouth in rebuttal, she stopped him. "Edward, you cannot feel responsible for this. Please believe me when I say that things worked out for the better. It may not seem like it, but it's true."

She watched as the pain and guilt seemed to slowly leave his face, his golden eyes becoming slightly brighter. Feeling herself smile, she continued, "I don't want you to think that any of this has to do with you, Edward. And if I should feel anything toward you," she added, "It's gratitude.

"The General has told me about some of the things you have done to help him _and _me. Things that I would never expect you to do unless it was of your own volition." Watching the last remaining signs of self-loathing wash away, she continued lightly, "You have done more for us than you give yourself credit for. You have done more than you know."

Reaching up, she pressed her hand lightly against his cheek in a comforting gesture. She had done it only once before and knew that the boy hated it, but she needed to get the point across somehow.* "I don't blame you. I _never_ did, Edward. You need to believe that is true."

Much to her surprise he leaned into it slightly in acceptance. And for the first time during their brief interaction, he finally looked her fully in the eye, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

_That _was more like the Edward she knew.

"Are you feeling better," she asked as she pulled her hand away and rested it on her lap.

"Yeah," he replied sheepishly as he sat back up. However, when he straightened himself out, he winced and clutched his side. From there, a different type of pain spread across his face.

"Edward?"

"It's-it's nothing," he said as he tried his best to smile at her. "My side just hasn't fully healed yet is all."

_His side?_

No doubt seeing the blatant confusion on her face, he shrugged and said, "Dr. Marcoh said I could have the stitches out by next week. It really isn't that bad, actually. The knife didn't hit anything vital."

_What…? _This was the first time she was hearing about this. Stitches? Knife? Nothing vital? Trying her best to keep her voice calm and collected, she stated, "Edward, I don't think I'm following. What exactly-" She was cut off when Roy opened the door and walked in. As Edward turned around to see who it was, the softened-turned-hard expression immediately went to the General.

He had _a lot _of explaining to do.

* * *

After Mustang had walked in and interrupted their conversation, Hawkeye had asked him to give them a few minutes alone. Edward eagerly obliged; it didn't take a genius to realize that Mustang hadn't told her about what had happened to him. He knew that the General probably didn't want her to stress about it, but it was still something that she needed to hear eventually. Looking back, it probably wasn't the best to mention it himself.

As he eased his way slowly down the stairs, Edward couldn't help but feel lighter.

She didn't blame him for what had happened. And even though Hawkeye could be incredibly hard to read at times, Edward had discovered long ago that her eyes were what gave her emotions away. So when he finally did look her square in the eye, he saw only reassurance and honestly.

She said it wasn't his fault…

Limping through the kitchen and into the living room, Edward slowly sank onto the couch next to Al, whom was watching him anxiously. When he had settled himself, Al asked, "How is she doing?"

"Good," Edward murmured as he smiled lightly. "The Lieutenant is doing really well."

"I wouldn't call her 'Lieutenant' for much longer," Dr. Knox mumbled from his corner chair. "She isn't exactly military anymore if she's considered dead."

"What," the brothers both asked in simultaneous disbelief.

The doctor shrugged off their surprise. "Since I declared her dead, her military papers will be marked as 'deceased.' In reality, it's no different than the Maria Ross case.

"Of course, knowing Hawkeye and her connections in the military, she'll fight it with everything she's got. Hell, the General was just telling me that she was already talking about automail."

"Automail," Edward echoed as he absently rubbed the kneecap of his metal leg. Feeling his brother's eyes on him, he turned to Al; his younger brother's eyes reflecting his thoughts.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking," the younger Elric slowly asked.

"Yeah," Edward replied as he felt a determined grin form on his face. "I think it's time we called in a favor from my mechanic."

* * *

**A/N: **_That was a fun chapter to write, although I hope I did the characters justice! I also hope that I paced it well. I really didn't want to stretch this between chapters. But if anyone seemed OOC or if it seemed rushed definitely let me know._


	22. Titanium

"Absolutely not."

Edward stared at Mustang in disbelief, his mouth hanging ajar. After a few moments he recovered and finally managed to find his words. "Why the hell not?!"

"You know perfectly well why, Edward," Mustang said hardly. "It's best that Miss Rockbell stay where she is. The more she moves around, the more likely it is she will be a target."

Edward knew he was right, but still… Here was an opportune moment to get Hawkeye's life back on track, and yet Mustang was brushing the notion off as if it was nothing.

"Besides," the General continued frankly as he crossed his arms, "This is something that we both still need to discuss in detail. You know all too well that this isn't something you can just decide to do."

"Yeah, but it isn't your decision," Edward snapped. Thrusting his thumb at himself, he said, "_I _made the decision for myself; not Granny, not Winry, and not Alphonse because it was _my _body."

Mustang shook his head in reply. "The situation is completely different, Edward." As Edward opened his mouth to rebuttal, Mustang cut him off. "End of discussion. Miss Rockbell is to come here only out of necessity, and this situation is not one that is considered such. You will be able to see her soon, but only under controlled circumstances."

Edward bared his teeth. "You can't go around and control everything just because you can! You can't make decisions for-"

"End. Of. Discussion," Mustang snapped as he turned away from the boy and made his way toward the stairs. Stopping at the bottom of them, he threw Edward one last glare. "You best get a good night's sleep, Edward. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

Still fuming, Edward watched as the older man made his way up the stairs, quickly disappearing from his view. Shoving his hands into his pockets and grumbling to himself, he made his way past the staircase and toward the room that he and Alphonse would share while deciding that, one way or another, he would make things happen.

* * *

Eyes flying open, Edward instantly turned his head toward the twin-sized bed next to his. However, much to his relief, Alphonse was still asleep. Furrowing his brow, he tried to figure out where it had come from. Had he been dreaming? He must have been…

Closing his eyes with a tired sigh, he slowly felt himself beginning to drift to sleep again until…

There.

He was certain of it this time.

Throwing off his covers, Edward leapt out of bed and rushed toward the door. After opening it and sprinting out into the hallway, he hurried up the stairs as fear and uncertainty pooled in his gut. He was positive of it… He knew he had heard a scream.

As he jumped over the final few steps and landed on the top of the stairs with a loud _thud_, he saw that Mustang's door was wide open. Glancing inside he realized that the Flame Alchemist was nowhere to be seen. Turning back toward the darkened hallway in front of him, Edward observed a small ray of moonlight escaping through Hawkeye's room's unclosed door.

He cautiously advanced forward and pushed on the door slightly. It creaked in response as it slowly swung open. After taking a moment for his eyes to adjust, Edward saw an odd-shaped form sitting on Hawkeye's bed. As he took a step forward the floorboard groaned beneath him, causing the person to turn, bathing their face in the moon's glow.

"Is everything alright," Edward murmured as his eyes scanned from Mustang's face down to Hawkeye, whom was on his lap, his arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace.

"Yeah," Mustang replied with a weak smile as he looked back down at Hawkeye. "Just a nightmare," he murmured softly.

"Oh," Edward replied with uncertainty, not sure if he should leave them alone or assist in any way he could. Unable to decide, he remained frozen there until Mustang broke the drawn-out silence.

"This is why I want her to wait," he murmured as he readjusted his hold on her, causing her head to loll to the side and against his chest. Looking over his shoulder, his glance invited Edward toward him.

Easing his way over to them, Edward stood a few steps from Mustang, seeing the two of them more clearly now. Hawkeye appeared to still be sleeping, her face buried into the General's shoulder as she took rapid, shallow breaths; her body quaking uncontrollably.

"I don't think she's ready yet," Mustang continued in a hushed tone. "She may think that she is, but she doesn't get to see the fear in her own eyes or hear her own screams when these nightmares happen."

"You mean… this has happened before," Edward asked slowly.

Nodding his head, Mustang admitted, "Almost every night. It's because she doesn't think about it during the day that she has them this often. She needsto think about it one way or another in order to overcome this… So her mind _makes _her remember.

"I'm not going to force her to talk about it, though; not until she's ready. My biggest fear," he whispered, "Is that she will go through with this and the pain and memories will accumulate and proliferate; and that won't help her."

Edward nodded in response but remained silent, watching the two of them as Mustang began rocking her gently.

"But," he continued softly, "If we discover that this will help her, then I won't stand in her way. I'm only voicing my concerns based on what I've seen and heard." With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes.

Taking a step forward, Edward lightly asked, "When was the last time you actually slept through the night?"

His eyes opening in surprise, Mustang slowly turned his head to look at the boy and cast him a fatigued smile. "I've been sleeping enough," he reassured cryptically.

Edward didn't buy it. Folding his arms across his chest and narrowing his eyes, he said, "Go get some sleep."

After staring at him in confusion, Mustang shook his head. "No. That won't be necessary. I-"

"You aren't fine," Edward grumbled back. "The circles under your eyes are so dark that I almost mistook you for a raccoon when I walked in. You need rest." As Mustang opened his mouth to protest, Edward cut him off. "You did this in Ishval. You took everything upon yourself. Let someone help out for once." Strolling to the other side of the bed, Edward slumped in the chair that was stationed there and folded his arms as he made up his mind. "I'll stay here for the night and if anything happens I'll let you know."

"Edward, I can't expect you to-"

"It's fine. I've slept enough these past few days for almost ten people." Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he watched as Mustang struggled to come to a decision. Finally, the man seemed to relax. Taking this opportunity, Edward again said, "I'll let you know if anything changes."

Relenting, Mustang reluctantly eased Hawkeye back onto the bed, pulling the covers back up and over her. After watching him linger for what seemed like hours, Edward cleared his throat. "You know, the longer you stand there the less sleep you'll get. Then we'll have to do this all over again tomorrow night."

Looking up with a pained expression, the older man watched Edward for a few moments before nodding slowly. Stealing one last glance at Hawkeye, he slowly walked around the bed, stopping next to Edward. Clasping his hand firmly on the young blond's shoulder and squeezing it gently, Mustang murmured, "Thank you…" before releasing his grip and walking out into the hallway.

After the man had closed the door, Edward strained to listen.

Mustang was still standing outside.

He sat, unmoving and listening. Finally, he heard Mustang make his way down the hallway and into his room, the soft _click_ of a door confirming that he had gone inside.

Slumping further into his chair, Edward eyed Hawkeye, studying her face.

In the faint moonlight, he could see that her cheekbones were still unusually prominent. And while the circles under her eyes were gone during the day, he could still make out signs of them based on the way the shadows on her face fell.

She said it wasn't his fault, but still... he felt obligated to do what he could to help. He had helped out for so long, there was no way he could turn his back on them now.

He'd see this through until the end, no matter what. And if it ended with automail, he'd be there too.

After all, they had done so much for him already...

With a light sigh, Edward began to sit back when Hawkeye shifted again; her calmed face once again twisting in pain and agony, her breaths becoming fast and shallow. Digging her nails into and clutching the sheets, she opened her mouth to cry out.

Instinctively reaching forward, Edward ripped her hand away from her grip on the sheets and held it between his own, silently praying she didn't follow through with her scream. And, much to his surprise and relief, she didn't; instead taking a deep, ragged breath, her muscles instantly relaxing.

He discovered quickly that night that contact like grasping her hand was enough, although the fear never left her face entirely.

It probably never would with anyone else though. Because no matter who it was, no one would ever be able to match the silent presence of Roy Mustang.

* * *

With a soft groan, Edward slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times. In his field of vision, he could see his hand atop Hawkeye's, still rested on the bed in front of him. Realizing he had dozed off, he immediately bolted upright in his chair, his eyes going to her face. However, he instantly relaxed.

Finally she seemed at peace, her face turned away from him as she took deep, full breaths.

With a sigh, he slowly lifted his hand away from hers and stretched his arms over his head, taking care not to strain the stitches on his side. As he began to relax, he heard a creak behind him. Turning in his chair, he saw that Mustang had been the source of the noise.

Quietly advancing forward, Mustang stopped beside Edward and cast him a curious glance.

Edward responded by shooting him a small, reassuring smile.

Instantly Mustang's face relaxed, a look of relief washing over him.

Hopping out of the chair, Edward motioned for the General to sit down, trying his best to move as quietly as possible.

With a nod, Mustang silently thanked him and began to sit.

However, as Edward began to make his way toward the door, his automail leg groaned, then screamed as he put the full weight of his body on it. Much to his horror, it gave out beneath him, resulting in him crashing to the ground in the loudest way possible.

Frantically pushing himself upward and looking over his shoulder, Edward winced as two sets of eyes, one annoyed obsidian and the other concerned brown, returned his gaze.

* * *

"I swear to god I did not do that on purpose," Edward agitatedly explained for probably the tenth time that morning.

Rolling his eyes at him, Mustang replied, "Sure you didn't, Edward. It was just a coincidence that your automail broke the night I told you we couldn't have Miss Rockbell here."

"It's true," Edward shot back. "It must've happened when I skipped those last few steps on the staircase."

While he was defending himself, Edward almost didn't realize that Winry had reentered the room, his automail leg in her hands.

Ignoring the bickering taking place in front of her, she noted, "It looks like one of the parts I replaced was defective. Lucky for you, I have a spare with me."

Edward shot the General a look that said _"I told you so" _as he said, "What'd I tell you? Winry wouldn't be here if there wasn't a legitimate issue. She's the best there is."

Sighing, Winry answered bluntly, "If you're trying to flatter me, Ed, I'll let you know that it is working. Although," she added as she lifted the leg and opened the compartment on it, pointing to a spot inside, "_That_ little crack is completely your fault. Flattery won't get you out of paying for that repair."

As Edward opened his mouth to protest, another voice cut him off. As the three of them turned toward it, Edward caught Mustang's facial expression; it looked as if his eyes were going to pop out of his head in panic.

"Hello Winry. I thought that was you," Hawkeye murmured with a weak smile as she leaned heavily against the doorframe.

Mustang was instantly on his feet and over at her side, wrapping his arms around her as he supported her. "How… How did you get down the stairs," he asked anxiously.

Accepting his support, she leaned into him. "There is a railing," she pointed out. "Besides, I haven't been up and on my feet in a couple of days."

Edward's eyes slowly scanned down to her legs, noticing immediately that, despite Mustang now taking on almost the entire burden of her weight, they were still shaking considerably. Turning back to Winry, he caught the tail-end of her glance at Hawkeye's loosely hanging, empty left sleeve, before watching as her eyes darted up to the older woman's face.

"Hello Miss Riza," Winry said while beaming at her. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been a bit tired, but I'm fine," Hawkeye replied with a weary smile as she leaned closer to Mustang. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

Edward watched as the two chatted back and forth idly as if nothing has changed. Pulling his eyes away for a brief moment, he caught Mustang's eyes. They were filled with uncertainty and pain, reflecting to Edward what he was probably thinking inside.

He knew that they hadn't had their discussion about the topic yet, and now it has looked like they were out of time. Maybe once the topic inevitably came up in this conversation, the decision would become clearer…?

* * *

After a few minutes of sitting in concentrated silence, Winry finally gathered her observations and thoughts enough to speak. "Admittedly I haven't seen too many automail limbs attached just above the elbow. And when they are, there are a lot of screws and rods inserted beneath the skin in order to provide additional support since the humerus is not as strong as the femur in the leg. Most of the upper limbs I've seen have either had complete removal of the limb up to the shoulder or have had support plates embedded in the body's trunk."

Roy had cringed throughout the entire process, from the beginning of Winry's evaluation to her ending explanation. The thought of even removing more of Riza's arm made him feel sick to his stomach. He knew what the surgery entailed. Anything in addition to that would be even more excruciatingly painful and tedious.

While he noticed that he had winced, Roy observed that he did not once see Riza bat an eye or flinch, even when Winry subtly suggested further removal. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he could see her determined expression.

Was she really ready for this…?

At a quick glance, one would assume that she was.

But he knew her better.

Despite the fearless face she wore, beneath it all he could still see a glint of uncertainty and anxiousness.

Would she truly be able to recover after all of this…?

Seeing her sherry eyes now focused on him, Roy did his best to flash her a reassuring grin, though he knew it was not nearly convincing enough.

He could admit that he was terrified. Terrified that this would do more harm than good. Frightened because of the chance that she'd never recover, losing herself in her nightmares and terrors.

But most of all, he was terrified of losing her…

"Alright," Winry's voice jolted him from his thoughts. "I've given you a lot to think about, Miss Riza, but don't think you have to make a decision anytime soon."

Shooting her a faint smile, Riza nodded. "I agree, Winry. I really do appreciate you taking the time to discuss this with me. I certainly have a lot to consider."

"Of course," Winry said with a smile. "Now," she said as she rose to her feet, "I'm going to go and try to fix Ed's leg _again_." Grabbing her jacket, she turned on her heels and began to walk toward the door before she stopped and whirled around. "And if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask Ed too. He might not know as much about the mechanical aspect, but he's the most honest when it comes to any other form of the matter." And with that she turned around and headed out the door, maneuvering around Dr. Knox as he walked in past her.

Before Roy could get a word in with Riza, Dr. Knox grumbled, "There's someone here for you, General."

Staring at him in confusion, Roy said, "I didn't tell anyone I was here. Who could possibly-?"

"Says his name is 'Rodin,'" Dr. Knox answered as he raised his brow. "Ring any bells?"

"Yes," Roy grumbled as he got to his feet. Looking back at Riza, he said, "I'll be back up in a few minutes, alright?"

She nodded in reply, dismissing him.

Turning on his heels, he followed Dr. Knox down the stairs and into the living room, where he was greeted by the Lieutenant Colonel's 'coos' and 'ahhs' as he presented pictures of his two children for anyone present to see.

Upon seeing the General, he immediately straightened himself and saluted. "Hello, General."

Tossing him a quick salute in return, Roy murmured, "Hello, Lieutenant Colonel Rodin. What brings you here?"

Folding up his wallet and getting to his feet, the Lieutenant Colonel said, "I was hoping I could stop by to look at a few pieces of the case with you again, sir."

Remembering the last time he had looked at the evidence, Roy did his best to hide his distaste. "I would have preferred a call, Lieutenant Colonel, before you decided to blindly wander here."

Taking a step forward, Rodin shook his head. "I took the utmost caution, sir. There wasn't another soul anywhere near me when I came here, I assure you."

"And is there a reason you assumed this should be considered a top-priority," Roy asked dryly, not understanding the underlying tone of urgency in the Lieutenant Colonel's voice.

"Actually, there is, sir," Rodin said as he picked up the manila envelope that had been next to him on the couch and folded it under his arm. "Dr. Marcoh has confirmed with me that, at this time in two days, the suspect will be ready and able to answer any and all questions for us."

* * *

**A/N: **_I managed to get one final chapter out before classes start up again on Monday! I'm going to try and update my other story before then, but after that updates may be a bit slower, though I'm shooting for getting one chapter out every 1-2 weeks (especially if I can write 500 words or so when I'm on break from studying,)_

_I've decided to publish that "memory" I talked about last chapter as a separate one-shot that could be considered a companion piece, so be on the lookout for that eventually (although that will probably be after I update this story gain). It'll be titled "Murderer," and will contain Friendship!RizaEd and probably hints of Parental!RoyEd and Royai. The genre will be friendship/angst. __**Synopsis: **__Riza Hawkeye decided long ago that she will do whatever it takes to protect those she cares about… even if that means taking a life in order to defend another. However, Edward Elric does not see things the same way._

_I also want to publish it as its own piece because I have officially hit 100 favorites for this story as well as over 100 reviews (at this moment)! So thank you so much for the support, whether it be by reviews, favorites, or follows! I'm truly honored and I'm so glad that you are all enjoying the story!_


	23. Brothers

**Quick A/N**_**: **__There will be a mention of __**attempted**__ sexual assault in this chapter. However, I will say that something like that is not a part of this story. Rather, it is mentioned due to the brutality that ensues._

* * *

"How can you even look at this," Roy asked quietly as he ran his fingers through his coal-colored hair and leaned back in his chair, no longer able to focus on the report that was sitting in front of him.

Casting him a sad smile, Lieutenant Colonel Rodin admitted, "Well, it isn't something I _enjoy_, sir. Rather, I'm doing it because I'm good at it. And if I can share what skills I have with the world, then it's worth it.

"So when I heard that the Hero of Ishval needed someone to assist him with this case, of course I jumped on it. Though I didn't meet you personally on the battlefield, I'd heard of your feats and accomplishments-"

"Don't," Roy muttered as he sent a look of warning toward the Lieutenant Colonel. "Don't call me the 'Hero of Ishval.' That's a title I'd prefer not to stick."

"Right," Rodin immediately apologized, his face flushing with slight embarrassment. "Sorry, I meant no disrespect, sir."

Shaking his head, Roy accepted the man's apology. "It's fine. I would just prefer to let that name die."

"I understand," Rodin said as he nodded and turned back to the paper in front of him. "After all, my brother was the same way. I, regrettably, tolerated the war because that's what they trained me to do. But he… he never saw the purpose in it all. Looking back, I couldn't believe I had even accepted it." Glancing up, he fixed his eyes on the wall, his face softening as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts. "Sometimes I wish it was me that had died back then… Not him."

Feeling a pang of sympathy, Roy reached out and clasped his hand on Rodin's shoulder, pulling him from his trance. As the man turned in surprise to look at him, Roy said, "You shouldn't say things like that. If that were the case, you wouldn't have the family you love so dearly. And besides," he added as he squeezed Rodin's shoulder, "You're still keeping your brother alive by remembering him. And if he were alive today, I'm sure he'd be proud of where you are."

Allowing himself to smile, Rodin replied, "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the sentiment." Looking back down at his watch, his eyes widened slightly. "Oh! And speaking of family, I have a phone conference with mine in twenty minutes. You know how five-year-olds can be when things they expect are late," he said as he grinned.

"Right," Roy agreed as he dropped the paper copy of the report in front of him on the pile Rodin had set up.

Gathering the papers into a single manila envelope, Rodin saluted the General. "So I can expect you back at the military hospital at 0800 hours on Wednesday?"

Returning the salute, Roy answered, "Yes," as he stood to show the Lieutenant Colonel out.

Raising his hand, the Lieutenant Colonel shook his head. "No need, sir. I can find my way out." After turning away, he paused before turning back to the General, his quirky expression turned solemn.

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel," Roy pressed as he eyed the man curiously.

Sighing, Rodin earnestly asked, "Sir… Do you think you're ready for this? I know you don't like to bring it up, but with the way you reacted in that bar… I'm just afraid that you might not be as prepared as you may think."

Roy studied the man's face for a moment, taking note of every crease and line that accompanied his concerned mask.

Was he truly ready? Perhaps not.

But this desire to hear for himself from the very man that nearly took her from him overpowered his mind's uncertainty.

He _needed_ to know.

He _needed_ to hear it for himself…

With a nod, Roy dismissed the Lieutenant Colonel's concern.

He was as ready as he'd ever be.

* * *

Taking care not to wake his sleeping brother, Edward cautiously shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders and slipped out of their shared room, closing the door softly behind him. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he spotted the staircase and slowly made his way up it and toward Mustang's room, wondering if the lack of lights indicated that the older man was still asleep.

Lightly stepping onto the landing, he noticed instantly that he was not, in fact, in his room. Feeling the corner of his lip twitch upward in a knowing smirk, he advanced toward Hawkeye's room. He should have known…

Stopping just short of the door, he heard two voices. Noticing that it was cracked open, he peered inside curiously.

Despite the small opening, he could make out Mustang and Hawkeye standing extremely close together, moving in a slow and circular fashion. Taking a moment to process it, he realized that, if anything, it looked like they were… dancing?

Mustang had one arm wrapped around behind her, supporting her back and keeping her upright, with the other grasping her right hand. Hawkeye, on the other hand, was standing on his toes, her head resting against his shoulder.

For a moment, Edward didn't move, afraid that he would ruin the moment. However, he knew that if they didn't leave soon, they'd be late in getting to the hospital. And he knew that Mustang was eager to go and finally get answers. As he raised his fist to knock against the door, he was stopped when he heard them begin to speak again.

"Are you absolutely sure about this," he heard Mustang murmur as his eyes slowly wandered down to Hawkeye.

Edward saw her move her head up and down, hearing a muffled, "Yes," as she spoke into his shoulder.

Mustang's face twisted in anguish, but he said nothing, allowing the silence to stretch between them for a few moments. Finally he managed to find his words. "Could you consider talking to Edward just once more?"

He saw her shift and lift her head to look at Mustang's face, her eyes searching for something Edward couldn't see. After considering his proposal, she nodded sharply, her face becoming serious as she muttered, "Of course," in response.

After that the two of them moved silently for a few moments, giving Edward the chance to knock. However, as he raised his fist once more, Mustang's voice cut him off.

As he looked down at the woman he held in his arms, Mustang chuckled lightly. "You know, before long you won't even need me anymore. You're practically supporting yourself."

She hummed in reply, but said nothing further; instead resting her head against his shoulder.

Taking notice instantly, he gently guided her back to the bed and helped her into it.

Once she was settled, Mustang raised a hand and lightly pressed his palm against her cheek, the two of them sharing a silent conversation only they could possibly understand. After dwelling for a few moments, he reluctantly pulled away and murmured that he'd be back later.

When she nodded in understanding, he slowly stood and began making his way toward the door.

Still on the other side of it, Edward realized that within moments he'd be found out. Scrambling as quietly as he could, he leapt down the hallway and darted into the bathroom across from Mustang's room. Before he could close the door, however, Mustang was already outside of Hawkeye's room. Slinking back into the darkness, Edward waited for him to pass, hoping to convene with the General downstairs.

Instead Mustang startled him when, as he passed the bathroom, he mumbled, "Let's get going, Edward."

* * *

As they neared the end of their awkward car ride, Mustang finally addressed the young blond that was seated beside him. "Lieutenant Colonel Rodin and I will be on the top level of the hospital. I don't plan on being there long; only until around noon or so," he explained, "So be sure to have Dr. Marcoh bring you to the designated drop point around that time once the surgeon is done checking your progress."

"You aren't staying until the Lieutenant Colonel is done," Edward asked curiously.

The General shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. "I'm not in the same line of work as the Lieutenant Colonel and am not equip skill-wise to ask the questions he will be asking. Instead I will be attending most of the questionings in order to better understand the suspect, though I will still be asking questions from time to time."

Meaning that he was _not _allowed to be the primary interrogator, Edward deduced. Although he completely understood; after all, he had heard about Mustang's "outburst" while he was still at the hospital.

He wondered how the man could subject himself to his. Throughout the years, Edward found that he became better at reading Mustang's facial expressions; although his level of skill would never match that of Hawkeye's.

When he had followed Mustang out of the house that morning, Edward could see a hint of sadness in his eyes. He had become increasingly better at concealing it from most of the people around him, though Edward was sure that Hawkeye saw it too.

He always had that glint in his eye when he was around her.

But when Edward had climbed into the car, his thoughts took a darker turn. Because if Mustang was getting better at hiding his sadness, then who's to say that he hasn't already mastered hiding his rage?

* * *

"Ah, back for round two, General," the suspect quipped as he nestled back into his raised bed, making himself as comfortable as possible, despite the handcuffs that shackled him to it.

Roy refused to flinch, keeping his hardened glare and blank expression focused on the man.

Clearing his throat, Rodin gestured for Roy to sit down in the chair furthest from the man's bed; he himself sitting in the one closest. Once Roy had sat down, the Lieutenant Colonel turned his attention to the suspect. "Actually, I will be the one asking questions, mister…"

"Nikolas Vansin," the man replied with a mischievous grin.

"Thank you," Rodin muttered as he scribbled the man's name down on his notepad. After he was done, he looked up again. "So let's cut to the chase. How do you know Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye?"

"I think you mean 'did,' sir," Vansin replied as he spread his cracked and dry lips into a smile. "And if you must know, we met up with her in Ishval around three months ago."

"'We,'" Rodin echoed in question. "Could you elaborate?"

"Of course," Vansin responded. "My 'brothers' and I picked her up after that little blond brat abandoned her. She looked a bit… lost," he murmured as he turned his gaze toward Roy.

"Focus on me please," Rodin said, drawing attention back on himself. When the man's eyes wandered over to him, he held Vansin's gaze and asked, "Who are these 'brothers' you speak of?"

"There were six of us total, sir. I'm sure you've heard of Adamo Giordani, yes?"

Rodin slowly nodded in confirmation, keeping his glare focused on Vansin.

"Aside from him, there was Vladmir Garin, Thomas Wilson, Alvise Bulgari, and Alexander Strauss. Although, you've already found Bulgari. You remember that fine young gentleman with the word 'soft' eloquently etched onto his forehead, no?"

Roy shuddered internally, remembering the young man's image all too clearly. His throat slit; widened brown eyes staring vacantly at the blue desert sky above.

Fresh… and dead.

"And I'm sure if you sift through the sand long enough, you'd uncover Garin and Strauss. After all, you left Strauss to rot shortly after your little 'rescue mission.'"

Roy sat silently, completely stunned. He was not holding back.

Sure, the information could be completely fictitious. But the way he presented it… The way he fired it off with relative indifference.

It was sickening…

Rodin spoke again, pulling Roy out of his thoughts. "So the man General Mustang and his men saw that day was Alexander Strauss-?"

Vansin nodded in reply, prompting the Lieutenant Colonel to jot down another note on his pad of paper

"And there is yet another buried out there? Vladmir… Garin, you said?"

"That's the one," Vansin responded with a wide-set grin. "He might not be in as… decent a condition, however." After Roy and Rodin shot him looks of confusion, he continued, "You see, about four weeks into our little 'adventure,' my dear brother Garin got a little… lonely. So lonely, in fact, that he tried seeking comfort in your dear Lieutenant. She of course, like the rest of us, wanted nothing like that to occur. So Brother Giordani made sure he would never attempt such an act again…

"If you look hard enough, you could probably still find him rotting behind the former command center," Vansin said as his grin morphed into a sadistic smile. "Although, I will warn you that identification will be difficult. His skull may or may not be in pieces."

The two interrogating men were left speechless at the utter brutality this man described with such nonchalance.

Vansin zeroed in on Roy, his eyes narrowing gleefully. "You should have seen your precious Lieutenant's reaction, General. The sheer terror in her eyes. The scream she produced upon witnessing the savageness of the kill." Leaning as far forward as his restrains allowed him; his black eyes bored themselves into Roy's, trapping him with his wild-eyed gaze. "Oh, to hear that cry one more time, bouncing off the cavernous walls of that decrepit old building. It was rare, but once it was drawn out it would send shivers down the spine of even the most intrepid of men."

Roy's eyes widened in horror as her screams were forced back into his mind.

"_**S-stop!"**_

Memories of her clawing at her bed sheets as she writhed and twisted in her bed.

"_**Please…!"**_

The way her face twisted in anguish as she clung to him in desperation upon waking up.

"_**No!"**_

Roy clutched the fabric of his pant legs as he tried to block out her cries. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly.

It took every ounce of self-control to _not _launch himself at the cold-blooded "killer" that sat before him. Those black, soulless eyes twinkled with delight at his internal struggle. It was blatantly obvious that the man was attempting to elicit a response from the General.

But he needed to remember that she was safe and thriving.

When he left this godforsaken hospital in a few hours, he would not find himself staring down at a freshly dug grave. Rather, he would head back to a home where she was there and alive as she continued to fight.

And as long as she fought, he would too.

As long as she had the strength to continue, he would match that.

Realizing he was holding his breath, Roy allowed it to escape slowly yet again. Focusing his steely dark eyes on the man, he settled on his resolve to fortify his mind to the man's cruel attempt at evoking a reaction from him.

As he slowly relaxed his trembling, clenched fists, he could see the man's face fall in disappointment.

Leaning back into the bed, his beady black eyes never leaving Roy's, their prisoner muttered, "What else do you want to know?"

* * *

The rest of that morning's questioning had gone without a hitch.

Vansin continued to cooperate to an extent, telling them anything and everything they wanted to know about his "brothers." From what he had claimed, the men formed and allegiance with a man they oftentimes referred to as their Leader.

However, when they pushed the man to reveal his identify, Vansin shook his head and smirked in reply. "If I knew, I would most definitely tell you." After receiving a few confused stares, he explained, "Your guess would be as good as mine who it was. And honestly," he continued, "I didn't care. As long as I got my cut of the money, I didn't care about whom or what dictated what I did."

Feeling another surge of disgust inside of him, Roy did everything in his power not to fall victim to his increasingly short-fused temper. But this interview was quickly whittling it down…

Before the man could speak again, a light knock interrupted him. Upon turning around, Roy saw Dr. Marcoh standing in the doorway, his small dark eyes fixing themselves on him. Understanding the silent message the doctor conveyed, Roy nodded and stood up, ignoring the chuckle elicited from Vansin.

When he was about halfway across the room, he heard the suspect sweetly say, "Leaving so soon, General? Such a shame… I was just about to get to the good part."

Disregarding the man's attempt at getting a reaction from him, Roy continued toward the door, only stopping when the man followed up with another statement that made his blood run cold.

"Be sure to keep an eye on that boy of yours," Vansin purred, "I'd hate for something terrible to befall him as well…"

* * *

Edward paused for a moment outside of her door, trying to organize his thoughts.

Mustang had been quick to collect him once he was done with the interrogating. But after they had climbed back into Dr. Knox's car, the man had been unusually silent, only addressing him a few times. One of the few things he asked, however, was for Edward to remember what he had mentioned before.

Mustang had asked him to talk with her once more in order to make certain that this was a decision she was one-hundred percent committed to. During the surgery there would be no turning back. Second thoughts regarding removal of the hardware after the fact were too common. And unfortunately, removal was oftentimes as painful as placing it.

To say that Hawkeye was a tough woman would be an understatement. Hell, she barely flinched at the fact that she had her throat slit.

But if Mustang had voiced his concern about her mental wellbeing, then Edward would have to be on guard as well; because she too was excellent at hiding her true emotions, even more so than Mustang.

So now it was his job to make sure that she was one-hundred percent committed and prepared, because it was a long, painful road toward recovery…

After knocking lightly on the door, he heard a woman's voice inviting him inside. When he stepped into her room, he saw her flash him a small smile. Returning it, Edward casually walked forward and sat on the chair next to her bed.

In turn, she pushed herself up and leaned back against the headboard, eyeing him knowingly. Rather than letting silence befall them, she almost immediately asked, "I'm assuming the General asked you to talk to me?" When he nodded slowly in reply, she smiled reassuringly. "Then say whatever you feel is necessary and don't hold back. I want you to be completely honest with me."

He nodded again in agreement, knowing that she didn't want him to sugar-coat anything.

Once he decided where he would begin, he started with a question, "I'm sure you've heard about how painful it can be?"

She gave him a sharp nod in reply, watching him intently.

Rubbing his artificial knee absently, he said, "When I had it done, I couldn't even sit up the first week because it hurt so badly."

If anything, her expression was one of empathy; not one of shock or second-guessing. Taking note of it, he pressed on. "It took me a year to recover, but most of the time it can be anywhere from two to three years. During that time it can be the most painful, especially when the barometric pressure drops or when it gets too cold or hot."

Again she nodded in understanding, showing no signs of backing down. She had known him long enough to know these simple facts.

He had to be sure though. It wasn't something one could simply get done. It was _meant _to be a permanent solution. He had to be sure…

Looking down at his knee, he murmured, "I never told Al this, but there were times after I had recovered from the initial shock when I would curl up on the floor and almost wish I was dead."

Those days and nights had been the worst. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn, remembering all too well the pain he felt as he writhed on the floor, his silent tears staining his face and cheeks. He had sometimes wished for death, but he would never truly want it because…

"But do you regret it?"

He looked up when he was pulled from his thoughts; his golden eyes locking with mahogany brown ones. They silently asked him again the same question: Did he regret it?

The answer was obvious.

"…No," he said as he shook his head slowly. "I don't. I would never regret what I had done." Because if he hadn't undergone the excruciatingly painful surgery, he would have never been able to embark on the perilous journey that ultimately resulted in getting Al's body back. He would have never truly met people like Mustang, Hawkeye, or Hughes; or Ling and Lan Fan and May.

He would not be the person he was today if not for automail.

"I have never regretted it," he reiterated confidently.

Somehow she seemed to understand what he was thinking, because that appeared to be the answer that she was looking for. With a nod, she smiled at him. "I think I understand, Edward." Her eyes softening and her voice filled with sincerity, she added, "Thank you," as she leaned back once again.

Taking his as a sign of dismissal, he grinned back as he stood up. "Of course. Let me know if there is anything else you want to talk about."

After she nodded in reply, he got up and shoved his hands into his pockets. With one last nod toward her, he walked out of the room and down the stairs, a lightness filling his chest.

It had been a while since he had really sat down and thought about his decision to get automail. Thinking about it again caused a swell of pride to flood his gut as he rounded the bottom of the staircase and was meet with a heartwarming scene.

Seated in the living area was Mustang and Alphonse, the two of them leaning over a chessboard. For a moment, neither one of them acknowledged his presence; too into the game to realize he was there. So he took that opportunity to really _look _at Alphonse, to see just how much he has grown and changed since he was pulled out of the Gate.

When Mustang looked up and eyed him intently, Alphonse turned around and smiled a wide and toothy grin toward Edward, causing his euphoria to practically spill over inside of him. He would undergo the procedure to get automail again and again if it meant he would be able to see his brother's smile.

Returning his brother's grin, Edward made his way toward them, remembering what Hawkeye had asked.

No… He didn't regret it one bit. And he knew that in the end, neither would she.

* * *

**A/N: **_Yay! I threw in some brotherly fluff for you guys as a treat. :) And now it is set in stone; Riza will be getting automail. I'd imagine that the entire process is one to not take lightly, hence the reason the decision seemed to be dragged out._

_In regards to the names of all of the men Vansin mentioned, only really remember his name and Giordani's. The rest are relatively unimportant…_

_Everything seems good now, but just wait; it's the calm before the storm... Was Vansin foreshadowing something?_

_I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but I'm going to try and get some Parental!RoyEd in there (since what did Roy think when Vansin said that to him?) and probably some Royai and EdWin. Depending on how I split it up, we will find out about Riza's injury in another chapter or two (probably)._

_Thank you to everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows! As of right now, this story almost has 150 followers! So, thank you for the support and I'm glad you are enjoying the ride!_


	24. Story Time

**A/N: **_There will be some medical jargon in this chapter, but fear not! I will post an explanation at the end for those of you unfamiliar with anatomy. I also talk about the first part of the two-shot I've posted that loosely ties into the story._

* * *

"Yeah," Dr. Knox mused as he leaned over Winry's diagram and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I can see that… But what about support? If you're attaching to the humerus, you're gonna need some sort of support system to distribute the weight. Otherwise it's just going to rip right out."

Nodding in agreement, Winry asked, "Remember Ed's automail?" When the doctor nodded back in reply, she explained, "Since his arm was a lot heavier I needed a way to make sure that it stayed put. In order to do so I installed plating on his shoulder, back, and chest in order to even out the weight and take some of the stress off the socket. In this case I would probably…" She trailed off and looked again at the diagram before continuing, "Set three screws in the scapula and six in her ribs for the plating she would need."

"Aren't you forgetting about her brachium," Knox asked as he tapped the top rendering of a flesh upper arm in the diagram. "How's the support going to scatter the stress if it isn't attached to the limb? I know you want to keep the remaining part of her arm, but it doesn't seem feasible."

Shaking her head, Winry stated, "Don't worry, I came up with a solution for that as well." Digging into her satchel, she pulled out a second rolled up diagram. When she unfurled it and flattened out the creases, she pointed to the largest picture. "I thought that if I built a sort of 'protective casing' that would snap around her arm and join the limb to the support, it would help remove all the stress from where the metal meets bone. Plus," she added as she smoothed it out again, "I wanted it to be easy enough to remove in order to allow her to wash her arm or let her skin breathe. It should just snap on and off with a simple mechanism, so she could even remove it when sitting at a desk."

Scratching his chin again, Dr. Knox muttered, "I'm impressed. You really thought this through haven't you, young lady?"

Beaming back at him, Winry said, "To be honest, I started thinking about it the second Edward called me."

Raising his brows, he replied, "That's pretty bold of you. How'd you know she'd actually do it?"

"I'm sure that you know Miss Riza better than I do, but I've always known her to be a very strong woman. I just never pictured her accepting her predicament by settling for just a prosthetic. So I really wanted to help her. And besides," she said as she lowered her voice thoughtfully, thinking back to their conversation years ago, "She still has so much left to accomplish…"

"Yeah, I'd say you hit the nail on the head with her. However," Dr. Knox said as his voice became serious, "I have a few conditions for you before we continue discussing this further.

"If we're going to do this, I'm going to make it a requirement that we use general anesthesia." As Winry opened her mouth to protest, Knox cut her off in order to explain. "Dr. Marcoh can get me the equipment we need for it. And I know that you don't use it on a regular basis, but this is unlike anything you've done in the past, at least from what you've told me. Most of your patients required complete arm replacement, correct?" When she nodded, he continued, "Well in this case the brachial plexus is still completely intact and the nerves should, for the most part, still be in the area they are generally found. I have a simple test we can perform in order to determine if the nerves are still working properly.

"The post-operative pain is already going to be excruciating enough and we don't need to put any more stress on her; at least when we do it this way we can monitor and treat her post-surgical pain appropriately.

"Secondly," he went on as he held up his pointer and middle finger, "I'm going to require that she be at least 110 pounds before we start the procedure. With the way she's gaining now, she should be at that point by the time you're done building it in a week or so. But if she isn't, we're going to wait." When Winry opened her mouth again, he said, "I realize that we want to try and do it as quickly as possible to avoid the scar tissue that's likely building up, but I won't be comfortable having a patient that is too underweight under anesthesia for that long.

"Now," he said as folded his arms across his chest, "Are we in agreement here?"

After pausing for a moment, Winry bobbed her head and responded, "Yes."

* * *

Roy was sitting in the other room while the automail mechanic and doctor discussed and planned the procedure, managing to hear every little detail. Shuddering inwardly, he felt like _he _was the one having second thoughts.

"Checkmate!"

Snapping his head back up, Roy saw that Alphonse had taken his king.

He honestly hadn't realized that he left the piece right out in the open… He had been too busy defending the queen.

Shooting him a puzzled look, Alphonse observed, "You look distracted, General." Smiling slightly, he said, "Are you listening to Winry and Dr. Knox's conversation? Isn't it fascinating the way those two can work together like that?"

Roy nodded absently in reply, listening as their conversation topic diverged from automail to the nervous system in general. "It is…" he murmured in delay.

As Alphonse reset the chessboard, he softly said, "You know… It's okay to be worried. I was when Brother decided to get it done." When Roy looked at him fully, Alphonse smiled and added, "I know what it's like to be in your position; so if you ever want to talk about anything, you can always ask me."

Feeling the corners of his lips turn upward, Roy said, "Thank you, Alphonse. I really do appreciate it…"

Noticing that _something_ had to be on the General's mind, Alphonse lightly pressed, "Is there anything you're thinking about now?"

Roy was about to shake his head 'no,' but realized that the young boy was offering him something that only the two of them could understand: comfort. With a small sigh, he gave in and said, "To be honest, Alphonse, there is something I'm… not really sure about."

"What is it," the young blond asked as he shot the General a sympathetic smile.

"I guess… I don't know what to do," Roy admitted. "Is there something I need to do when all is said and done? How can I help with maintenance or anything else that's thrown at her?"

Chuckling slightly, Alphonse said, "Pretty much everything you're doing right now, General. But the biggest thing is," he said as his grin widened, "You just need to _be_ there.

"When Brother was recovering I was there for him when he needed me. Of course, with the body I had it wasn't an issue at all. But even just my presence was enough to let him know that I was there for him, and that I always would be. He knew without anything needing to be said between us.

"So just keep doing what you're doing… Because that's exactly what Lieutenant Hawkeye needs to recover."

Roy couldn't help but smile back at the young blond, realizing that even now he was still surprised and still learned from the two brothers. Reaching out and taking the queen chess piece in his hand, he said, "Alright. How about we play another round… And you can give me a few extra pointers."

* * *

Leaning back in his chair, Roy folded his arms across his chest and craned his head back to look at the ceiling. After a few moments his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was able to make out the small bumps on it. He began to unconsciously count them as he would stars, his thoughts wandering to the conversation he had with the Lieutenant Colonel earlier that evening.

According to the lower-ranking officer, Vansin had dabbled in their talks these past few days, insisting on talking about nothing but the histories of his "brothers."

Sure, that was good and all, but most of what he told them they already knew. But whenever the Lieutenant Colonel pried at him, the man would refuse to speak unless the General was present.

Because according to Vansin, he had a "story" he wanted to tell Roy.

But after that stunt he had pulled days earlier, attempting to get a rise out of Roy, the Lieutenant Colonel and General decided it would be best to lie low for a while.

Now it didn't seem possible anymore. Vansin's will was strong, and he seemed to have no problem rambling on and on until he got his way. And the longer he did so, the longer the investigation would be dragged out…

In a bid to not waste any more time than necessary, Roy agreed to humor him and listen to the tale he wanted to spin, as long as he actually told them something of value.

But as he sat there, listening to the quiet breaths Riza took as she slept, Roy began to have second thoughts about going.

What _would_ the man talk about?

Would it actually be about the case... About Riza? Or would he simply continue to spew out semi-pointless facts?

Was it about Edward?

Thinking back to the last words the man said before Roy left that day, he couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Those words had been unnerving.

Vansin said that he needed to keep an eye on him, so that's precisely what Roy had been doing the past few days.

Nothing too extreme; just simply keeping tabs on the young man when he went outside to get more firewood for the house's fireplace or when he disappeared for a while. Roy had always kept tabs on Riza, and now he found himself keeping them on everyone.

Just yesterday Edward and Alphonse had ventured outside to get more kindling, but failed to come back in after about ten minutes or so. After a silent fit of panic, Roy marched outside, his ignition gloves pulled over his hands, ready for anything… Except for what he actually _did_ see.

He found the two boys around the house's corner…

…Petting a stray cat.

Massaging the bridge of his nose, he leaned back further in the chair, chastising his overprotectiveness. After witnessing that he really should have known; especially now that Alphonse was in the house.

Still, he couldn't push away the guarded feeling those words had planted deep in his gut. Because now he was constantly watching, waiting, for something to happen.

It had especially taken a toll on him these past few nights. His sleep schedule left much to be desired. Riza had noticed and consequently urged him to go to sleep early. But that was the other issue. He couldn't go to sleep, not when-

As if her nightmares had picked up on his thoughts, Riza shifted uncomfortably, clawing at the bed sheets as she normally did when they began, her toes twitching methodically beneath them. But just as he leaned forward and reached for her, her grip loosened and her face retained its peaceful appearance.

Surprised by this self-correction, Roy once again leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest as a small smile crept across his face.

It would appear that there would be no nightmares tonight…

* * *

After getting a late start, Roy reluctantly dragged himself to the hospital.

Before he left, however, he made sure that all of the doors and windows were locked. Seeing these actions, Dr. Knox silently sulked around, but said nothing about the General's safety check.

Once he had arrived, he was almost instantaneously greeted by an unusually chipper Lieutenant Colonel. Probably happy they were about to make some progress, Roy hypothesized.

As soon as they entered the room, Roy could feel those soulless, black eyes on him. When he matched the stare he received, they seemed to dance and glisten enthusiastically.

Taking a deep breath, Roy trudged forward and fell back into his chair as the Lieutenant Colonel eased into the seat next to him, his pencil and notepad ready.

Exhaling silently, Roy inwardly commanded himself to keep a level head. As long as he did exactly as he had a few days ago, all would be well. He could do this.

Vansin was the one to break the silence. With a gleeful smirk, he purred, "I've missed you, General. I had a story all prepared for you and you never showed up."

"I'm here now," Roy replied hardly as he narrowed his obsidian eyes, "So if you don't mind, I'd like to cut to the chase."

"My, my; aren't we eager," the man replied as he scooched up the bed, pulling himself into a sitting position. Cocking his head slightly to the side, he said, "I want to tell you a little story about a friendly game of questions and answers…"

* * *

**A/N: **_Many apologies regarding the shorter chapter, but there wasn't any more I could add without including part of the next chapter in it (which would have taken away from the suspense/drama of it). So the chapter ends here._

_Next chapter is a landmark chapter. Chapter 25… I had originally thought the story would be over by now, but I guess it isn't. Since it is a landmark chapter, it will also be a major chapter as well. It will be the chapter where I explain what happens to Riza's arm._

_As a pre-chapter warning, it will be graphic and there is no way around that. If it isn't your thing though, you can definitely skip it because you have a general idea as to what happened._

_**Anyways, I owe everyone a quick explanation on basic anatomy**! The scapula is your shoulder blade and the humerus is another name for the bone in your upper arm. The brachial plexus is a network of nerves that branch out and innervate (or send electrical signals from your brain) to your upper arm, forearm, and hand. It is located in the underarm region, essentially in the armpit area. Since Riza's arm was not taken up to that point, most of the nerves should still be intact. In order to test their function, Dr. Knox can pinch certain parts of Riza's arm in order to determine if she can feel it. If she can, then that nerve is still viable, since most of the nerves that provide motion also have a sensory component. For more information or for a visual image, Google __**'arm sensory innervation' **__and check out the images. It's pretty neat!_

_*And the reason why they want to keep as much of Riza's arm as possible is because: 1) You don't have to cut off healthy tissue if it can be saved and 2) It would be a longer, more grueling surgery because they'd have to rebuild her shoulder joint as well.*_

_So, thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I've officially hit 150 followers! As a sort of **celebration**, I posted that Parental/Friendship!RizaEd fic I mentioned called 'Murderer' (I've decided to make it a two-shot, though the second part is not written). Feel free to check it out since it very loosely ties into the story (why Riza believes Edward doesn't like getting his face touched)._

_See you later for Chapter 25: 'Wings.'_


	25. Wings

**A/N: **_As I said at the end of the last chapter, __**graphic content ahead**__. I did tweak my description a bit in order to still fit it under a 'T' rating._

_This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write. I invented the theoretical scenario purely for this story and even that was difficult for me as I am not the type to think about situations like these (which I pray this does not exist in actuality). This will be the worst chapter in this story._

_So anyways: apologies. No author's note at the bottom, as I feel it would take away from the chapter's end (which I hope isn't cheesy….) A big thank you to **Rookie Bee, Brenne, waddiwasiwitch, and Victorious-Mind** for the reviews for last chapter. Classes have been crazy and I have neglected to reply, but I truly appreciate each and every review, favorite, and follow! _

_See you for Chapter 26. It's status will be updated on my page as I write it._

* * *

_A sense of boredom overcame Nikolas as he leaned back in his chair, tipping it back to balance on its two back legs. Reaching over, he grabbed an empty can that had been left on the table and began to toss it up and down, up and down, up and down._

_Behind him he could hear Giordani hard at work; pulling, shaping, and kneading the metal in his hands over the open fire, working it into its desired shape. After spending nearly three months with the man, Nikolas knew what the behemoth was capable of creating, and this would surely not disappoint. _

"_Hey, what do you think I should ask her today," Nikolas asked as he tossed the can in the air. "I was thinking that I'd ask her about flame alchemy again. That always seems to get her riled up."_

_Giordani grunted thoughtfully, but said nothing else as he continued to shape the malleable metal in his gloved hands. He was never one for words, but Nikolas never complained. Sometimes silence was the best noise._

_Hearing the sound of boots scuffing against the dirty cement flooring, he lazily caught the can after he tossed it up one more time. Rotating his head slightly, he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to make out the face of the person that had entered. Despite the meager amount of light the fire radiated, he could just about make out the face of Thomas Wilson, one of their other "brothers." Trying his best not to scowl at the man, Nikolas nodded in greeting toward him. It wasn't that he didn't _like _the man… He just couldn't stand his existence. _

_In turn, Wilson nodded sharply back before strolling over to the table and taking the seat next to Nikolas. Leaning his elbows on the decaying wooden table and folding his hands together, Wilson inquired, "So what are you guys up to in here?"_

"_Working on a little… pet project," Nikolas retorted with a smirk. "Boss gave us orders to try something new. Said those Amestrian dogs are s_till _chasing their tails, so he gave us the go ahead."_

_Wilson furrowed his brows and asked, "What is it exactly?"_

_Already feeling a surge of displeasure at the man's incompetence, Nikolas simply replied, "Something called the 'Silver Viper.'" When Wilson responded with a small 'oh,' Nikolas turned to look over his shoulder and called out, "Isn't that right, Giordani?"_

_The massive man grunted in reply and nodded his head, keeping his eyes down on the object in his gloved hand. _

"_What exactly are you going to do," Wilson asked with piqued interest as his eyes wandered over to Giordani._

_Pushing back the annoyance that pooled in his cut, Nikolas decided that instead of outright telling the man, he'd pick at his brain, actually get him to _think _for once. "Tell me… How do you down a hawk?"_

_Puzzled as to where this was going, the man said, "I don't… I don't think I understand."_

_Raising his brows, Nikolas continued to rock back and forth on his chair, a smirk beginning to form on his face. "… You heard me."_

_When the man still couldn't get the notion through his thick skull, Nikolas sighed and craned his neck around in order to address Giordani. "You know, don't you?" When the giant grunted back, he asked again with a sneer, "How do you down a hawk?"_

_He watched as the mammoth man lifted the long, barbed rod up above his head, allowing the light to reflect off and capture its every detail. After admiring it for a while, his shoulders shook, as if he were chuckling. "Simple..." He finally rumbled, "You clip 'er wings."_

* * *

_The corners of Nikolas's lips twitched upward as she watched him, trying to figure out what he was up to. But she would never guess; the mask he wore both figuratively and literally was too concealing… Finally, he sauntered forward and stuck his hands into his pockets. Bending over so that his face was nearly a foot from hers, he quipped, "I want to play another game of questions and answers, Lieutenant. Care to join me?"_

_She narrowed her eyes in spite, but said nothing. _Still defiant as ever…

"_We're even going to put a little spin on it; to make it more interesting," he added, hoping to spark a horrified curiosity in her eyes, which he had found was incredibly difficult these days. Along with her body, her hope was dying. He could see it in those dimmed, almost lifeless brown eyes of hers._

_Again she was silent, either too uncaring or too worn to speak; he honestly couldn't tell which. _

"_You're going to tell me all the secrets of flame alchemy," he said matter-of-factly as he raised his brows at her._

_Lifting her head to glare at him, she wheezed, "You'd have to… kill me first…"_

"_Don't get your hopes up," he said pointedly, unimpressed that she wasn't playing along. Oh well. It only meant that they'd be getting started sooner. When she failed to reply to that, he strolled over to the still smoldering remnants of the fire and slipped on a pair of gloves. After lifting and examining it for the first time, he couldn't help but gawk at it and admire the craftsmanship. _

_It was just as he had described. About a 5 cenz coin in diameter, approximately sixteen inches long… And covered in thickened, pointed barbs._

_Just as he'd ordered._

_Whirling back around, he held the rod up for her to see. "See this," he asked. _

_She blinked wearily in reply, but finally moved her head up and down._

"_I'm going to use this to get you to talk." Nodding toward Wilson and Giordani, he watched as they stepped toward. Giordani placed his massive hands on her shoulders, pinning her down in the chair. Once he had, Wilson moved ahead and grabbed her left arm and lifted it up. He saw her try to pull it away; failing, of course. _

_Stepping forward, he snatched her wrist from Wilson's hand and gripped it tightly, causing her to wince. He lifted the object in his hand and pressed the still searing hot, pointed tip against the palm of her hand. When she tried to jerk away from her contact with it, he tensed the muscles in his arm, preventing her from doing so. _

_When she looked at it with widened, panicked eyes, he coolly asked, "What is the secret of flame alchemy?"_

_And yet, even though she had registered what he was about to do, she s_till _defied him, remaining vastly, and disgustingly, loyal to her General. Calling forth what little strength that remained, she lifted her eyes to him and whispered, "No."_

"…_Very well then." Without another word, he tightened his grip on her wrist and steadied the pointed object in his other hand. _

_Then he thrust it forward._

* * *

_He was not too familiar with the human anatomy, but he knew enough to know that there were some… obstacles that would have to be overcome._

_First is the wrist; chocked full of small, oddly shaped bones. And those, he knew, were surrounded in a compact network of tendons and ligaments. Twisting and plunging the spear at the same time, he heard an effectively loud tearing sound, confirming that with minimal effort, he had succeeded in ripping through her frail wrist's complex structure._

_He paused for a moment to let her catch her breath in between her screams of agony._

_Next there would be the area where the two bones in her forearm met her wrist. Simple enough…_

_Another wail of pain abruptly followed after another shove of the barbed rod._

_Then the atrophied and softened muscles of her arm. Easy... Tugging back on the rod slightly, he felt the barbs catch on her ripped and torn muscles before plunging it in further._

_He continued on, relishing the sound of her vociferous screams until…_

_She suddenly grew quiet, her entire arm and the fingers on her hand becoming limp as her head sagged forward and her chin came to rest on her chest._

_Looking up, he realized that the tool had erupted at the other end of her forearm, dislocating her elbow. Frowning slightly, he gave it a small tug. The barbs caught on the torn tissue and flesh and became taut. To that action, her body responded by shuddering involuntarily; otherwise, she did not stir._

_Letting go of her wrist, he watched as her dead weight of her arm swung down and knocked against the chair, then slow as it swayed limply at her side. _

_Raising his eyes to meet Giordani's, he nodded gravely._

_The man shook his head sharply in reply and released his hold on her._

_Without any support to hold her up, the Lieutenant teetered upright for a moment before collapsing to the ground, the metal tool lodged in her arm clanging loudly as it made contact with the cement. _

_Nikolas casually took a step forward and stooped down, pressing his cold and callous fingers against her neck. After a few moments he felt the vein quivering faintly beneath them as her body tried desperately to make sense of what was going on._

_With a frustrated growl, he rose to his feet and addressed the other men in the room. "I fear she might go into shock," he explained with relative indifference. "Could you go into town and get some medical supplies?"_

_The men nodded in silent compliance and trudged out of the room._

_When they were gone he crouched down once more and checked her pulse again. It was fluttering and erratic, but still there nonetheless. As he sat back, something suddenly dawned on him._

_In the heat of it all he had forgotten to continue to demand the secrets of flame alchemy. With a mild shrug he let it slide._

_Honestly, he could care less about the subject._

* * *

_When the men finally returned they brought with them another individual, whose face was concealed by a pillow cover. The unknown stood on trembling legs, silent sobs escaping from beneath the cover they had been forced to wear._

_Crossing his arms impatiently across his chest, Nikolas raised his hands and showed his palms, signaling to them to hurry up. _

_Hauling the individual over to him, one of the men pulled off the mask, revealing a terrified and hysterical young woman. _

_The instant it was off her face, she began to panickedly look around as her breaths hitched, bringing her even closer to the point of madness. When her eyes finally landed on his masked visage, she cried out and tried to backpedal, running into a looming Giordani. _

_Unfazed by her display of hysteria, Nikolas raised a brow and folded his arms patiently. When she had calmed enough, he said, "Thank you so much for coming out here on such short notice, Miss…?"_

_She continued to sob, ignoring his question entirely. With a frustrated growl, his patience running thin, he asked again, "Miss…?"_

"_Turner," the woman finally choked out, "Ma-Marie T-Turner…"_

"_Well thank you for joining us, Miss Turner," Nikolas replied haughtily. Taking a step to the side, he gestured to the motionless Lieutenant. "See that over there?"_

_When the woman's eyes wandered over to where he was pointing, she let out an audible gasp, her eyes widening in horror._

"_Your job is to patch her up enough to keep her alive," he explained calmly as the woman, overcome with compassion and shock, rushed forward and dropped to her knees at the Lieutenant's side. After the woman had begun to gently prod the unconscious woman, he asked coolly, "Think you can do it?"_

"_This woman needs to go to a hospital," the woman hissed as more tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. _

"_That's not an option," Nikolas responded hardly. "You'll have to do." He couldn't help but watch as the woman struggled with the cruel notion, then smirk as she looked back up at and glared at him in complete and utter dismay as she realized that he would not budge on the matter._

_After taking a few moments to collect herself, she uttered back, "I'll… I'll do it."_

* * *

"_This is that Lieutenant that went missing a few months ago, isn't it," the woman asked as she gently inserted a needle into Hawkeye's arm._

_Nikolas watched her for a few moments, silently studying and noting what she was doing; after all, he would be the one taking over the task afterwards. He was reluctant to tell her, though it quickly passed as he reminded himself that she would not be leaving there alive. Finally, he replied bluntly, "Yes."_

"_I really shouldn't be the one doing this," Marie Turner responded bitterly. "This woman needs to go to a hospital. Her temperature's spiking, her convulsions too frequent-"_

"_I told you that isn't-"_

"_And those idiots that took me didn't have the mental capacity to grab any decent pain medications," she hissed as she cut him off. "They grabbed oral tablets. Judging by her dangerously low weight, I doubt you've been giving her food properly. And you know just as well as I that she won't take them…" He watched as she fell silent and grabbed the IV bag and line she had been supplied by them. "At least they were smart enough to grab intravenous fluids and antibiotics. Those I can work with," she added harshly as she uncapped another needle and fed it through the drug's cap. When she withdrew the proper amount, she recapped the needle and worked on connecting the IV line and bag to the catheter she had placed in the Lieutenant's arm._

_He watched as she connected the bag and inserted the needle into the line, administering the antibiotics she had drawn up. When the last of it had been given, she immediately focused her attention back on the Lieutenant's left arm, taking care not to touch it. With a disgusted huff, the woman finally said, "It seems that the tissue has already begun to die," as she pointed to the Lieutenant's darkened, purple fingertips. "It won't be long before her body begins to reject it. Then there's always the possibility of an infection, which I'm confident, _will _occur…" She trailed off, losing herself in deep concentration._

_Finally, she made a decision. Taking the medical tape and wrap the men had also taken from the hospital, she began to unwind it. When she had taken enough, she ripped it from the rest of the gauze with her teeth. Leaning over and resting her hand gently against the Lieutenant's cheek, she wistfully murmured, "Hi sweetheart… There's something I need to do; something that will help you. I know it's going to hurt, but from what I've heard you're very strong…_

"_I'm going to tie this tightly around your arm and it's going stop the infection..." She waited for a moment; Nikolas saw that she knew she would not get a response. The Lieutenant had hardly stirred or moved since he had finished his brief "interrogation" twelve hours ago, lying motionlessly the entire time. He watched as the nurse lifted her arm, soliciting a pathetic, muted whimper from the otherwise unresponsive Lieutenant, and slid the makeshift tourniquet just above her elbow. _

_As she tightened it, she murmured, "I know it hurts, sweetie; I know… But… Just stay strong."_

_Nikolas watched as she again reached up and pressed her hand against the Lieutenant's cheek in a comforting gesture. He rolled his eyes and scoffed crudely, irked by the woman's compassion. When she turned to glare at him, he pressed, "Are you done yet?"_

_The woman paused, letting her eyes wander back down toward the Lieutenant. After examining her for a few more moments, she murmured, "You're going to kill me, aren't you," as she turned her shimmering gaze back to look him in the eyes._

_He raised his brows knowingly in response._

_Trying her best to keep her composure, the woman sniveled, "Make sure you k-keep retying the tourniquet every couple o-of hours… S-she needs eight m-milliliters of this ev-every six… six hours." When he took a step toward her, she quickly bent over and whispered something in the Lieutenant's ear. As he got to her side, she shakingly stood on her own and kept her eyes on the ground._

_When he grabbed at her wrist, she pulled it away and planted her arms firmly at her side. Shrugging agitatedly, he growled, "This way," as he turned on his heels. After walking a few steps, he was surprised to hear that she had indeed decided to willingly follow. Leading her out, he took her to a smaller, more confined room. Just as he was about to turn and address her, she walked past him and stood a few feet in front of him, clasping her quivering hands in front of her._

_He looked up and down her trembling form as he pulled the revolver from his holster, casually dispensing a single bullet into the rotating chamber. Curiosity got the better of him at that point, however._

"_What did you tell her," he asked blatantly as he closed the chamber._

_At the sound of the metal snapping shut, she fidgeted and clenched her hands together tighter as they became white. After taking a deep and shaking breath, her reddened, tearful eyes rose to meet his, and she said:_

"_I… I told her to _fight_."_

* * *

Roy did not remember much after that point.

He could recall fragments of cruel, depraved laughter.

Remembered staggering out of the room and trying, but failing, at finding a wall for support.

He remembered spilling the contents of him stomach onto the floor over and over again until he no longer had anything left, ultimately resorting to dry heaving.

He vaguely recalled Dr. Marcoh's concerned face in his field of vision.

But he did not remember what had happened next.

Did not remember leaving.

Not recalling driving home.

Could barely remember stumbling out of the car as he arrived at Dr. Knox's house.

But suddenly everything began to play in real time again.

In a matter of moments he was in the house, making his way past a baffled Dr. Knox. Rushing by a distressed Alphonse Elric. And brushing past a concerned and wide-eyed Edward Elric.

For a moment, their two gazes locked.

He could tell by Edward's shocked expression, his raised brows and his mouth agape, that the boy had a general idea of what was running through his mind. And after he had passed him, he could feel the blond's eyes on his back.

He skipped every second step as he dashed up the stairs and to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. When he flew into the room, everything came crashing back to him at once.

The images and pictures that man had painted with his words.

The absolute devastation he felt as those words had sunken in and taken hold of his mind.

The sudden and abrupt realization of exactly _how close he was to losing her._

And there she was, propped upright by a mountain of pillows, eyeing him with concern.

In all of her radiance. Her splendor. Her beauty.

Everything that was Riza Hawkeye was there in front of him.

He had known this and so much more before now, but when he heard those words and stories woven, he realized that he had taken her for granted.

He had thought that countless times while she served under him. After the Promised Day… When he first lost her… When they found her… When he nearly lost her again.

All of those times he had chastised himself for previously taking everything that _was_ her for granted.

And now here he was thinking that again.

But this time it would be different.

He had said it in his mind over and over again before, but never spoke it out loud, always knowing that the mutual feeling was there.

But now he needed to form something tangible with his words, because it suddenly struck him that he may never have another chance. She may be here now, but she or he could be gone the next.

He would not let that moment pass again.

It took all of three steps for him the cross the room to be at her side. As she pushed herself upright to greet him, her brows knitted with concern, he sat down on the edge of her bed and guided her into his embrace.

He could hear her saying his name over and over again in an attempt to get him to explain his emotional state.

It was not something to be explained, as she already knew it. Rather, it was something he needed to say in just three short words.

Because how would he know what the future holds?

He had let it pass too many times and he would not let it pass again…

Taking a deep breath, he finally said those three simple words.

And when he did, he poured everything he felt into them. Pain, elation, sadness, comfort: all of it and everything.

Because he did not know what the future held, and he would not make the same mistake again.

He felt her grip on him grow tighter as she buried her head into his shoulder.

He had done it… Spoken those three pure words so that the opportunity would never pass again.

"_I love you."_


	26. Beacon

**Quick A/N: **_A part of this chapter will seem like déjà vu (because I will be using a piece of a former chapter to come full circle in the story). I did include a few new parts to fill in the blanks, so don't skim over it entirely! More romance in this chapter than anything, rounding out this last little arc. And just as a reminder, when I talk about an "apparition," think back to Chapter 9: Escape._

* * *

_After that day, all she had known was darkness._

_When she had awoken after the initial shock, she had felt nothing. Could see nothing. Could hear nothing. _

_It was almost as if her body had merely become a shell that housed her soul, with no connection between the two whatsoever. _

_She remained there on her side for what seemed like forever. Every now and then she felt a light brush against her cheek or a gentle hand on her arm, but was unable to discern anything from those touches. They seemed so foreign and strange and kind, so unlike anything she had grown used to. Clearly they were a figment of her imagination._

_After a constant battle to remain awake, she finally succumbed to her exhaustion, eventually waking up in an all-too-familiar place. The air was dank and musty, the floor hardened and rough; yes, she was definitely back. But as she lay there, the numbness began to recede, and she began to feel again._

_First it presented itself as a dull throbbing in her arm; her heart desperately trying to pump blood back into the damaged tissue. Then, it quickly began to escalate into a burning ache. She knew that if she moved, it would all be over. So she remained there, allowing everything to creep back slowly. _

_But while she focused on her left arm, she noticed a slight irritation in her right. As the fingers of her right hand regained their mobility, they twitched, brushing past something coiled around her arm. Riza instantly recognized the familiar object. An IV line…_

_They weren't kind enough to provide fluids or pain medications… Which led to only one other conclusion._

_Wrapping her fingers gingerly around the line, she began to tug at it, feeling the needle and tape pulling the skin on her arm. She continued to work at it and work at it until she felt it free itself from her vein, pouring an unknown solution up and down her fingers and arms._

_That slight motion, however, caused a shockwave to rip through her, chasing away the last bit of numbness her body clung to._

_She was reliving it again. Feeling the piercing metal object tear through her muscles and tissues like it was nothing. Destroying cartilage and bone without care; despite her constant, agonizing cries for it to stop. That devilish, merciless laugh that resonated through her ears before her vision blurred and her hearing ceased._

_And now it was raging as if someone had set her arm aflame. She could feel her skin splitting and blistering, shriveling and wrinkling all at the same time. The total feeling: indescribable. _

_She choked back a sob as a surge of pain tore through her arm, then her entire body, but abruptly cut it short when the sound did not reach her ears._

* * *

_When the pain had dulled slightly, she found the will to cautiously move her trembling hand up to her face, feeling around her eyes and ears for anything that would obstruct her senses. She found that there weren't._

_A fit of panic rose inside of her as she began to frantically feel around her eyes. There was no pain, no numbness. Nothing peculiar…._

_But then why couldn't she see…?_

_Oftentimes there was some form of light streaming through the barred window at the top of the cell. Sure, they could have put it out, but that seemed so… unusual._

_Taking a deep breath, Riza muttered to herself, straining to see if those words would reach her ears, but to no avail. She could feel the vibrations in her throat and perceive the air as it exited her lungs, but as her lips moved, no sound was produced._

_She tried again, trying to raise the volume of her voice. Not enough to arouse detection, but enough so that she was guaranteed to hear it. _

_Still, there was nothing. Her mind was reeling as hysteria began to set in. Her eyes… Her ears… Her body…_

…_What had they done to her?_

* * *

_They had taken her one final time, propping her up in a chair the best that they could; though their efforts still resulted in her slouching forward. She could feel weak vibrations circling her over and over again. It did not take her long to realize that she was being questioned._

_And that's also when she realized she was no longer able to maintain her façade. _

_Feeling the air currents around her face shift and change, she realized that one of them had his face inches from hers, screaming._

_She contemplated ramming her forehead into his, but decided she did not have the strength. So she remained as still as she could, head hanging low._

_Without warning her left arm was jerked up, the metal rod that had been run through it yanked mercilessly. She let go a silent cry of pain as she felt the object catch on her torn muscles. _

_The perpetrator had obviously found her scream delightful, for he gave the object a few more tugs before leaving it raised._

_By then she was gasping, trembling, shaking. How pathetic she must have looked to them: her widened, unseeing eyes most likely staring at nothing in particular. They probably mocked her feeble efforts. _

_She found herself fighting through the agony, wondering then about what would happen to her. No longer would she be a source of amusement to them as they ridiculed her for her "valiant efforts" at remaining quiet for everything and anything they asked. _

_Maybe they would return her to the General? A longshot, she knew. But to return her as shattered goods would certainly fulfill their desire to cause as much devastation as they could._

_Maybe they'd continue at the pace they were going. Destroy her bit by bit until there really was nothing left of her. _

_Or maybe… _

_A sharp and sudden pain suddenly erupted at her side… and she was suddenly falling. Crashing to the ground, she let out a sharp cry as a layer of warmth coated her flank. _

_It only took her a few moments to process and understand it, realizing that a sharpened and lethal object had penetrated her side._

_Or maybe… they'd kill her._

* * *

_After being carelessly tossed into what she assumed could only be the cell they had been holding her in, she managed to roll onto her right side, grasping at the fresh wound inflicted upon it. _

_And there she laid, waiting for her imminent death. _

…_But at least she wasn't alone._

"_I'm sorry," she whispered weakly toward the apparition that had formed beside her. "It looks like… I won't follow you after all…"_

_She knew that it was simply that; a figment of her imagination. But at that time it was the only thing that she could see and hear and sense. A beacon in that desolate darkness they had subjected her to._

"_Will you stay… until the end?"_

_The vision of Roy nodded gravely and maneuvered her head into its lap. She fully realized that her temple was still resting against the cold, hard floor, but she imagined that he was indeed there with her. "Is this it," it asked solemnly as it ran its fingers through her hair._

_She hummed in faint response because…_

_Riza Hawkeye knew she was dying._

_For the past hour she could feel her pulse becoming weaker, the time between beats becoming increasingly drawn out. The only thing binding her to this world was the agonizing pain she felt radiating throughout her entire body… And the fabricated presence of Roy Mustang._

_She gripped the fresh wound at her side, taking a sharp breath as she did. This only caused more pain to rip through her. At that point, however, stimulating the wound was the one thing that kept her breathing. Riza had quickly discovered that the oxygen her body had once craved suddenly seemed more like a burden than a necessity. She would have stopped breathing a long time ago if she could, but her body still had an infinitesimal need for air._

_She exhaled slowly as the apparition did the same. That small piece of herself that she projected as him had begun to die with her as well._

_Her whole body trembled. She could feel the heat leaving it; the only source of any warmth being the sticky, crimson blood that poured from her wound. It hurt. Her whole body hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt just existing…_

_She found herself becoming increasingly irritated at her body's determination to live. Hadn't she suffered enough? Why was her body subjecting itself to more pain by continuing to function? Riza had accepted that there was no one coming to find her. There would be no rescue. Any and all hope of one had died as the weeks and months dragged on. She wondered if the military had abandoned its efforts in finding her, if there were any to begin with. Quickly shoving that thought aside, she decided that, at least at one point, there had been an effort. They- or rather, he- had probably turned the entire Ishvalan town upside-down in his efforts. Roy Mustang never gave up on anyone…_

"_And he never would," the apparition murmured softly as its presence began to fade._

_The thought of her superior officer made Riza's heart ache. She hoped that he wouldn't grieve-_

_-"You know he will," it interjected.-_

_But he didn't have time to weep over her. He needed to complete his goal of restoring Ishval and bringing peace. He had to keep his eyes fixated on his dream of becoming the Fuhrer._

"…_But it will be without you," it mumbled, disheartened._

_Riza felt hot tears stinging her eyes. She hated herself. She hated that she couldn't be there any longer to protect him. Hated that she wouldn't be there to see him accomplish his dream. And most importantly, Riza hated that she would never see him or his true voice again._

_She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks. Taking a quick, ragged breath, she allowed her muscles to relax. It suddenly felt as if a heavy weight were placed on her chest. The once agonizing pain that radiated throughout her had become dull._

_Riza knew her time was up. .. In more ways than one._

_Knowing this, the ghost leaned forward and whispered, "I love you."_

_She had never gotten to say it to him before… And now she never would. At least now, however, she could leave having said it out loud, even if it was to a figment of her imagination._

_Exhaling, she succumbed to the darkness, using her last bit of strength and her last reserve of air to murmur back, "I love you too…"_

* * *

_She had been so close to leaving, so close to finally finding peace, when she felt a change in the air current around her, signaling that someone had opened the door._

"_Someone's here," the vision of Roy said as it reappeared to her again. _

_She braced herself, expecting to be grabbed roughly and dragged out. If only they had given her a few more minutes…_

_Instead, she felt a firm pressure on her shoulder. Not rough, but certainly not light either. When she flinched it disappeared, only to return moments later, causing her entire body to shudder._

_The intruder was quick to scoop her up and hold her against him, his gentleness genuinely surprising her. Out of habit, her first thought was to struggle away from him and separate herself from him entirely. But she knew the notion was foolish; because what would that accomplish? Buy herself a few moments of freedom before being brutally scraped off the ground? So instead she took advantage of the warmth of his body, feeling her chilled, aching bones slowly begin to thaw._

_He was smaller than any of the men she had seen, except for one. Though something had nagged at the back of her mind saying that particular individual was long gone. So if this wasn't him, then who was it?_

_Before she could even begin to wonder, the unknown attempted to stand, only to crash to the ground moments later. A searing pain ripped through her and she gasped, clenching her jaw shut in an attempt to not cry out. He shifted, and she felt a stream of warm air brush past her cheek as his chest vibrated. _

_He was talking to her._

_Frankly, she was too tired and worn to even formulate a response. That and she did not want to give him the satisfaction of generating an answer from her. After all, this was all a sick, twisted trick._

_So for the time being she would take advantage of this feigned kindness, because at least he was unintentionally providing her with warmth. And if they decided to retaliate for her lack of response, then so be it; she would not even be there long enough for them to finish the deed._

_In the end, she would escape._

* * *

_She didn't know how long it had been. Minutes… hours? She didn't know…_

_All she knew was that the unknown remained adamantly in his position, refusing to move an iota of an inch, almost as if he was afraid of jostling her again. How… kind?_

_However, all good things come to an end._

_Riza felt him shift again and it took every ounce of what little strength she had left to not scream from the agony. Moments later, a second unknown daintily took her from the first's arms. This one was larger and even warmer, possessing a… familiar air about him. Whether it was good or bad, she wasn't sure. He was just that: familiar._

_She felt a faint hum in his chest. He too was talking to her. _

_Then he began to move her back and forth, back and forth; over and over again._

_He was mocking her, simulating the rocking of a defenseless child. Had she the strength, she would have pushed him away. But the cold, hard floor was more unforgiving than his mockery. So instead, she willed herself to open her eyes and focus her glare on where his face would be._

_He abruptly stopped and spoke again, his face inches from hers. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead until she felt the air currents shift, letting her know that he had backed off. But by then she had grown too tired and too uncaring to even maintain that stare. With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and allowed her head to loll forward and against his shoulder. Her neck muscles had begun to hurt from overuse._

_After remaining crouched there for a few moments longer, he finally decided to stand up, sending another bout of pain to course through her. Gasping, she gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes tighter still. _

_Seemingly ignoring this display, the second unknown whisked her away from her small containment. _

_A small part of her wanted to be relieved; she was leaving that godforsaken hellhole. But the rest of her screamed in silent panic, for they were now moving her to someplace unfamiliar. So when she won over that small part of her that still clung to the hope she would not return there, her entirety craved to go back. _

_If they had just given her a few more minutes, she could have spent that time falling asleep in Roy Mustang's arms._

* * *

Now here he was, clutching her and holding her as closely to him as possible, as if she would vanish if he loosened his grip.

The moment he had walked in, she knew something was horribly wrong. Her small smile of greeting had quickly vanished when she peered up at his expression. Devastation was the only word she could use to describe it. Devastation was painted across his paled, bloodless face. Devastation was consuming his dulled eyes.

Devastation for her…

"…Roy?"

He was suddenly there; seated on the edge of her bed. She spoke his name again, but he did not answer. Instead, he guided his arms behind her and lifted her upward into his embrace.

"Roy?" He was beginning to frighten her now; his lack of response uncharacteristic. "Ro-"

"I love you."

She exhaled sharply, his name becoming lost in her sudden breathlessness. It took her a moment to process the words, breaking them down and reconstructing them in her mind over and over again. They seemed so foreign to her. The way he said those three little words was familiar, all the way down to the way enunciated them. She had heard that tone before, but never with this combination of words.

_I love you._

"_I see you."_

There. Just like that. Just like in her dream… And just like he had uttered when she said the same: the day she truly saw him again.

The way they had exchanged those words that day had been enough for the two of them. A silent declaration of their feelings without having to say it, just like they had always done.

And here he was… Breaking the roles and saying them outright.

They were foreign. Against everything they had spent years building. Inappropriate. Ludicrous. And…

Something she had come to realize she wanted so badly to hear.

So here he was, wringing the emotions out of his heart for her to see, confessing everything to her in those three little words. _Love_. Pain. Elation. Sadness. Joy_._ Despair. And…

…And devastation.

Devastation that could only come from one thing…

He knew.

He now knew what haunted her nightmares every night. Knew what plagued her every time she unconsciously flinched at his touch. And knew what had driven her into the darkness corners of her mind.

Here he was, now sharing with her those horrendous memories of suffering and despair.

And…That wasn't fair.

Suddenly feeling guilt swell within her, she wanted to apologize to him. He should not have to burden himself with any of this. Her pain was now on his shoulders, and it didn't need to be.

"I'm here…"

Why had he-? That's when she noticed that her face was wet. …When had it started to rain?

_I'm here_…

That tone was shared with the words he had spoken previously. They spoke of hope and reassurance and love.

_I'm here…_

Despite everything, here he was; still loving her regardless of her brokenness and flaws. Here he was, still a beacon that shone brightly through the darkness, chasing away the shadows that loomed behind her eyes.

He was willing to stand beside her and not take the burden… but help to carry it. And because of that, his words had assured her: she was not alone any longer.

She reached up under his arm and grasped his shoulder, burying her face into his jacket.

She was not alone.

Actually, she had never _been_ alone.

He was here and he saw her, just as she saw him. He loved her just as she loved him.

So she repeated those three simple words back to him, finally allowing herself to say something she had long known and felt.

She loved him. And in that, she knew, she was definitely not alone.

* * *

Hearing a knock on the door, Edward watched as Dr. Knox disappeared from the room in order to answer it. After hearing him exchange pleasantries with the person that arrived, he looked on as the doctor led Lieutenant Colonel Rodin into the living room. "Yeah," Dr. Knox mumbled as he gestured to the couch and took a seat himself, "He made it here alright. Looked spooked though." Eyeing Rodin over the rims of his glasses, he asked, "You know why?"

Edward saw the Lieutenant Colonel look toward him briefly, raising his brows in a silent greeting, before turning back to the doctor as he sunk into his seat. "Yeah… The bastard baited him, saying he wouldn't talk unless he told the General a 'story.' And, well," the subordinate officer admitted softly, "It was a hell of a story."

"Yeah," the doctor replied as he chewed the toothpick in his lips, "Must've been. He ran in here like a bat outta hell."

Edward saw the Lieutenant Colonel watch the doctor for a few moments, probably wondering whether or not the man would press. Knox, however, simply leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "I can go grab him for you," Knox muttered.

"No," Rodin replied as he shook his head. "I just wanted to be sure he got here alright. When I saw him leave, I honestly didn't think of calling. I just reacted and followed after him." Rubbing the back of his head, he added, "I even lost him a few times, he was going so fast."

"He tends to do that when he's got his mind set on something," Knox responded matter-of-factly. When the Lieutenant Colonel nodded in agreement, he said, "Well, you're more than welcome to stay until he's ready. In the meantime, is there anything I can get you?"

Again the Lieutenant Colonel shook his head, this time getting to his feet. "I really should get going," he murmured. "I… cancelled the rest of the questionings for the remainder of the week; even I'm not up to asking anything more for now. Will you just tell him that for me?" When Knox nodded in reply, he began to leave when he stopped and turned back to the doctor. "Give the Lieutenant my best too. The General told me about what she wants to do and, well, I think it's very brave."

"Yeah," Dr. Knox grumbled as he stood as well, refolding his arms across his chest. "Brave but impatient. She wants to get it done next week already. It's an opportune time with the way she's healing, but still, you can't help but notice that she's running."

"I know what you mean," the Lieutenant Colonel answered. "But I can see a semblance between her and the General- at least from what I've heard about her. Both of them have a sort of… determination to them."

"Got that right," Knox grumbled.

"But like I said, I really should get going," Rodin explained as he turned back toward the home's entrance. Allowing his eyes to stop on Edward, he smiled warmly and said, "Be sure to keep an eye on them for me, 'kay Ed?"

Edward nodded and said, "I'll do what I can."

"I know you will," Rodin complimented before adding, "But make sure you watch yourself too." When Edward raised his brows at the statement, he clarified with a chuckle, "Be sure to give yourself breaks every once in a while. They're going to be depending on you and I know the kind of person you are; one that is willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. So please, make sure you take some time to keep yourself in check."

"Yeah, no problem," Edward murmured as the Lieutenant Colonel raised his hand to wave goodbye.

"I'll see you later," Rodin said with a smile as he dropped his hand, following Knox out of the room.

Edward watched after the Lieutenant Colonel for a few moments before rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the book in his lap.

* * *

It was quarter past midnight and, save for the occasional inebriated individual, the streets were quiet and empty.

Deciding that the coast was clear, the massive individual that had concealed himself among the brush lumbered out into the dimly lit street and made his way to a nearby phone booth. As he approached, the phone rang. Squeezing himself inside, he managed to pick it up on the third ring.

"Hello," he grumbled into the receiver.

"_Glad to see you've found the line_,_" _the voice on the other end of the receiver praised. _"How have things been looking?"_

"Fine," the scarred behemoth mumbled in response. "Saw that little blond brat run outside a few times to pick up more firewood, but otherwise quiet." Lifting his head, he looked around cautiously, noting that the streets were still empty. "Do you want me to do it tonight," he growled deeply into the line, his hands twitching in anticipation.

"_No," _his Leader commanded. _"I want you to wait. Keep an eye on them, but do not make a move until I say so."_

Shrugging off his growing irritation, Giordani rumbled, "How long?"

"_Just wait," _his Leader purred. _"You will have your chance soon enough…"_

* * *

**A/N: **_I hope the Royai was in character and the scene with the two of them was not disjointed, because I'm a paranoid person O.O Let me know if you think it was though..._

_After mulling over what I have left to this story, I've concluded that I probably have no more than ten chapters left if I don't add another side-story. It's crazy to think about… I've already started plotting out the second to last chapter (it's a doozy) even though I'm nowhere near complete with the other chapters…_

_Anyways, classes are becoming hectic, as exams are starting, so I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but I'll try. The next chapter will have Riza's automail surgery in it, but it won't have too much detail graphically, though it will probably have medical terminology and such as well as some description. Plus some parental stuff because I don't want to overburden you with just romance!_

_Finally, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm truly honored and gracious. On that note, see you for Chapter 27!_


	27. Scars

It was minutes before Dr. Knox and Winry were supposed to begin, and Edward offered to go over any last minute details with Hawkeye. Details like 'If you wake up and you don't immediately scream to alert them, please tell them so they can adjust the anesthetic' or 'What you should do once you wake up' types of points. Most of them seemed trivial and redundant, but he wanted to be sure that every base had been covered. He had endured the operation without any painkillers or anesthetics, so it was the least he could do to warn her in the event of a complication.

She absorbed his information like a sponge, nodding and murmuring a response or asking a question if she needed clarification. As she did so, however, he noticed that she would occasionally get distracted, her hair often falling over her shoulder and into her face.

He supposed cutting it had been the least of their worries after they had found her, but now that her health was no longer a major concern, this small annoyance managed to worm its way into her attention.

"Here, let me help you with that," Edward offered as he dug into his pocket, producing an extra hair tie. After a nod of thanks from her, he seated himself himself on the edge of the bed and gently took her hair in his hands.

"I'm probably going to have to cut it after this, aren't I," Hawkeye asked as he began to tease it apart.

"Not necessarily," Edward answered as he continued to work. "Why do you ask?"

"I would imagine it'd be difficult to maintain," she admitted.

"Eh, it was a bit challenging at first," Edward explained. "By the time it was long enough to throw back I'd had enough practice to get most of the dexterity back in my fingers. Still, it was difficult because I couldn't feel the pieces of hair I was holding in my right hand, although with practice it got better with muscle memory and all."

"I remember when your hair was shorter," Hawkeye noted. "It's so strange thinking back to that time, since I've otherwise only seen you with your hair braided back or in a ponytail."

"Yeah. It was a lot shorter back then," Edward remembered. "And if I remember correctly, your hair was shorter than mine then. Now that I'm thinking about it, the next time I saw you your hair was more grown out," Edward noted before trailing off. When she didn't immediately respond, he found that his curiosity had gotten the better of him. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking, why _did_you decide to grow it out?"

After taking a moment to consider his question, Hawkeye said, "Actually, it was Winry that inspired me to grow it out."

"Winry," Edward asked, surprised by her response.

Hawkeye nodded her head slightly. "Yes. When I met her I thought her hair looked nice, so I thought I'd try it myself. Looking back it was a simple reason, but I've enjoyed having it at this length."

Edward couldn't help but chuckle. "No kidding? Winry said almost the same thing. The reason she pierced her ears was because she saw that yours were done, and she thought it'd look good."

"Is that so," Hawkeye said with a light laugh.

"Yeah," Edward answered as he split her hair in half, holding both parts in his hands. "It's funny how that..," he trailed off however, when something bright red caught his eye. After blinking once, twice, he peered down at the nape of her neck again in order to verify what he had seen.

Small, intense red lines were etched into her skin, almost having the appearance of words.

Forgetting that he had stopped mid-sentence, Edward subconsciously leaned forward to get a better look at-

A split second later her hand was up and over the nape of her neck, shielding it from his view. Realizing that he had been gawking, he leaned back and stammered, "Ah, sorry, I-"

"It's fine," she murmured, the lightheartedness in her words now gone. "Just a scar from the war."

"Right," he agreed as he began to weave the two parts of her hair together to form a braid, allowing the awkward silence that had rolled in to set itself between them.

But as he sat there, he couldn't help but allow his mind to wander as his hands worked mechanically. The lines had been too straight and too perfect. There was no way that had been a scar.

So then… What was it?

* * *

"Are you ready?"

With a small nod, Riza laid her head back against the pillow and allowed her eyes to drift back over to Roy, who shot her a reassuring smile. "I'll be right here when you wake up," he assured her as he squeezed her hand.

"Alright then," Dr. Knox grumbled as he lifted the gas mask from the table beside him and turned the anesthetic machine on. "Now remember to try and give us a signal if you feel yourself waking up," he said. "Wiggle your toes or twitch your hand if you are, because we don't want you to come completely out of it."

Nodding in understanding, Riza answered, "Yes, sir."

"Well okay." Turning to Winry, Dr. Knox asked, "Anything else you can think of?"

Shaking her head as she slipped a face mask over her mouth and nose, Winry's muffled voice replied, "No." When her eyes drifted down to meet Riza's, their corners lifted slightly as she smiled beneath the mask. "Are you ready, Miss Riza?"

Again she said yes. She was as ready as she'd ever be. When she woke up, her life would be different… but better. When she woke up, she'd be more complete than she had been these past few months.

When she woke up, she'd be able to follow him once again.

Once the mask was placed over her nose and mouth, she breathed deeply, just as they had asked her to do. Almost instantly she felt a sense of exhaustion wash over her. Before allowing herself to succumb to sleep, she glanced at Roy one more time, seeing his increasingly blurry silhouette standing right beside her.

In her last moments of wakefulness, she quietly murmured, "I'll see you later, Roy."

* * *

With a sigh Edward slowly sunk lower in his chair, unable to fight off the boredom that had crept up on him.

They had started a few hours ago. When he offered to help, Winry had been quick to shoot him down, saying that she and Dr. Knox could handle it from there. He shrugged it off at first, but after a while he wondered _why_.

Sure, Knox was a doctor, but he had helped Winry and Granny plenty of times before. Oftentimes he would help them if the bone was too thick to get a bolt through when either one of them had tried it first.

If he recalled correctly, Granny had always said that 'the more hands in an automail surgery, the better...'

He was pulled from his concentrated thoughts by a small itch on his left side. Groaning agitatedly, he lifted his shirt and stared down at the large scar on his side, zeroing in on the fresh, raised line that now adorned it. Even though Knox had removed the sutures a few days ago, it was still itchy as hell. Keeping the shirt raised with one hand, he reached down and began to feverishly scratch at it when a voice suddenly startled him.

"What is that?"

Jumping at the sound of Mustang's voice, Edward quickly tugged his shirt down and over the stitches, and massive scar, on his side. Snapping his head up to face the General, he blurted out, "Nothing."

Raising a brow, Mustang took another step forward, his obsidian eyes never leaving Edward's side. "That didn't look like 'nothing,'" he observed.

"It's nothing," Edward muttered agitatedly as his eyes quickly wandered around the room, praying that Alphonse wasn't anywhere in their vicinity. When they landed back on the General, he saw that Mustang was not swayed by his weak attempt at brushing the older man off.

Pulling one of his hands out of his pockets, Mustang gestured to Edward's side. "Let's see it."

"There's no need to," Edward argued as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Everything's fine."

"Whatever I saw was _not_ fine," Mustang stated bluntly. "Let me see it. Unless," he added, "You want me to tell Alphonse you're hiding something."

At the mention of his younger brother's name, Edward narrowed his eyes at the older man. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Mustang answered as he too narrowed his obsidian eyes. "If you're hiding something Edward, you need to let someone know. Do you _want _to risk infection or-"

"It's not like that," Edward interjected. "It's completely different."

"If it's so different, why don't you show me then," Mustang retorted as he raised a brow and folded his arms. Ignoring the blond boy's glare, he added, "Look, the sooner you show me this supposedly minor thing, the sooner this conversation will end."

Realizing that the man would not leave until he had an answer, Edward reluctantly, slowly, lifted his shirt, revealing the nasty scar that covered half of his side. For whatever reason, he had expected some form of scolding or reprimanding, but instead his ears were greeted by a gasp.

"Edward," Mustang breathed as he leaned in closer to examine the aged scar, "What… What happened?"

Tugging his shirt down, he leaned back again and muttered, "It's not really a big deal. I just fell when I was in Baschool. I'm fine now."

"It doesn't look like you got it from 'just a fall,' Edward," Mustang murmured. "It's more than that."

"What's the big deal," Edward asked agitatedly. "I'm fine now, so it doesn't matter and-"

"It _does_ matter," Mustang said as he cut him off, though he did so softly. "Something like this," he added as he gestured to Edward's side, "Matters."

Edward scanned the man's face, trying to decipher the lines painted across it and the subtle movements of his eyes. He wasn't sure if Mustang was simply picking at him because he was trying to get his mind off of Hawkeye, or if he g_enuinely _cared. However, the longer he read his face, the more signs he saw that the man _did_ seem like he cared. At that moment, his mind wasn't on the surgery or Hawkeye; instead, it was on him and his wellbeing.

Feeling his insecurities slowly begin to slip away, Edward's thoughts were suddenly consumed by a desire to share what had happened with the older man. Something about the way he looked at Ed told him that he would not be interrupted or judged too readily.

Taking a deep breath, Edward turned his gaze down toward his feet and began. "It happened when I was in Baschool. I had confronted Kimbley and we began to fight. I didn't realize he had two stones… I made a mistake and let my guard down.

"When the rubble cleared, I tried to get up and found that I couldn't. And when I looked…" He paused for a moment as his side began to ache slightly at the memory. Taking another breath and exhaling slowly, he continued, "And when I looked… There was a steel beam piercing my side."

He paused for a moment, half-expecting a gasp or some sort of audible noise. But when none came, he assumed that it was an invitation to keep going. So he did.

"I used my alchemy to free Darius and Heinkel from the rubble and they helped me remove it. In order to heal myself, I… Used myself as a Philosopher's Stone…" He trailed off, waiting for some kind of reaction. However, when he didn't hear anything, he raised his head and turned to face Mustang, whose face was a mix of shock and concern.

"…What," Mustang breathed in disbelief as his widened eyes trained down to look at Edward's left side, as if seeing it for the first time. After keeping his stare fixed there for a few moments, he murmured, "Edward… Do you know the consequences of something like that?"

When Mustang's eyes moved up to meet his, Edward caught them and held them with his own determined glare. "Yes. I knew it then and I know it now."

"Why would you-"

"I knew what I was doing, but I didn't think about it. I _couldn't_ think about it." Looking down at his hands, which were now folded in his lap, he continued, "All I could think about was getting to Al and Winry before Kimbley did… I had to… They needed me.

"Even then… Even then I didn't make it to them. They managed to avoid Kimbley, but still… It doesn't change the fact that I wasn't strong enough to get to them when they needed me most." Lifting his shirt once again to look at the massive scar, he muttered, "I guess you could say it's a constant reminder of what I _didn't_ accomplish." Running his finger absently along the new, raised scar that ran through its middle, he added, "And now it'll serve to remind me of what I couldn't accomplish…"

He didn't lift his head when he heard Mustang shift and move, nor did he flinch when the older man sat down beside him. Edward could feel his eyes on him, studying him, looking him over and reading him like a book. He hadn't told anyone about this incident before. The only ones that knew were himself, Heinkel, Darius, the doctors that treated him… and now Mustang.

Why he told him, he wasn't completely sure. Yes, Mustang had confronted him about it, and yes, a story about a simple fall would not suffice. Still, something deep down inside of him _wanted_ to tell the former, because he of all people would understand the consequences of something so dire and desperate.

Of course Al would understand, but Edward just didn't feel that his reaction would be the same as Mustang's… Accepting it right off the bat.

It made sense what he had done. It was the _only_ thing he could have done in that situation. If he hadn't, he would have died. If he had failed, he would have died. But instead he succeeded. For that Al would be relieved, but after that… The guilt would possibly set in.

It was in the names of Al and Winry that Edward had even attempted this on himself. In that success he knew that a number of years had been shaved off his life. Whether it was two or twenty-two, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that his days with them were numbered; his life was shorter. No doubt they would possibly outlive him…

Sure, he'd saved himself. And sure, he'd be there for them now… But not forever. If he could keep that fact to himself for just a while longer, maybe he'd be able to determine how much of his life he had left… And maybe he'd finally draw out the courage to tell Al what had really happened after they left him in Baschool.

"Please," he found himself whispering as he tugged his shirt back over the array of scars on his side, "Please don't tell Al… I want to do it myself… Eventually."

Mustang did not answer right away. Uncertainty flooded Edward's stomach as he lifted his head to look at the man, expecting a look of displeasure painted across the General's face. Instead, however, he saw acceptance and understanding.

"I won't," Mustang muttered. "I understand that this is something that is best told to Alphonse by you." No doubt seeing Edward's look of relief, he continued, "We all have our scars; some of which we keep hidden to avoid judgment or ridicule. But please know," he added has he clapped a hand down on Edward's shoulder, "That not all scars have to be burdens that need to be hidden away."

"I know," Edward uttered as he looked down at his feet. "I just don't want to do it now. Eventually I will, but just not now. Not yet."

"I understand," Mustang answered lightly as he gave Edward's shoulder a light squeeze before pulling his hand away and resting it in his lap. After seeming to consider what Edward had said, he asked, "Do you know how many…" He trailed off, as if uncertain of which words he should use.

Shaking his head, Edward responded, "No… And that's why I don't want to tell Al yet. I want to see if I can pinpoint something before I do."

Mustang nodded in understanding, his eyes never leaving the torn young boy. "Just please," he began, causing Edward to raise his head again, "Please tell me if there is anything I can do to help you."

Looking fully at the man now, Edward saw the concern and determination in his eyes. It was… reassuring…

"If there is anything I can help you do in order to discover that, please tell me."

"Even if it uses up all of your precious research funds," Edward joked lightly.

Scoffing, Mustang responded, "You know I don't need to do anymore research."

"Whatever," Edward responded as he rolled his eyes; feigning annoyance at the man's perfected form of alchemy. "But," he said with a small grin, "I'll let you know."

* * *

Cracking an eye open, Edward saw that he was alone once more, having fallen asleep in the chair he was sitting in. After that he and Mustang bounced a few ideas off of each other before the latter decided to go and check up on how the surgery was going. Sometime after that he must have fallen asleep again. With a groan, he raised his arms above his head and stretched, cracking his back and knuckles.

He wondered how long he had been out. There was no sign of Winry or Dr. Knox yet, meaning that they were probably still tied up with the surgery. Mustang wasn't there either, and he guessed that his younger brother was either with him or sleeping.

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Edward rocked a few times before pushing himself up onto his feet. As soon as he did so, a low grumble coming from his stomach made itself known. Taking that to heart, he headed toward the kitchen, walking past the basement door as he did so. Just as he had cleared it, it swung open and Dr. Knox appeared, looking downright exhausted and worn.

"Man, that's rough," the doctor complained as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Six hours in and only halfway though."

Edward nodded. His surgeries were a combined eighteen hours of work. It's definitely something that can come as a shock to those unfamiliar with the field. "Things are looking good, though," he asked.

"Yeah," Dr. Knox admitted as he dropped his arm to his side and made his way toward the kitchen. "I'm just taking a quick break before heading back down. When I go back I have to bring a few extra scalpels with me."

"I can take them down," Edward volunteered.

"Ah," the doctor began, "There's no need to. I'll have them down in fifteen minutes-"

"I don't mind," Edward interjected firmly.

Raising his brows at the boy, Dr. Knox finally gave in. "Alright, but don't stay down there too long. Just toss 'em to her and come back up." Digging into a kitchen drawer, the doctor produced a package of scalpels. Turning around, he handed them to Edward.

Taking the package, Edward replied, "Yeah, sure." With that he whirled around and headed toward the stairs. As he descended, he couldn't help but reflect on the doctor's unusual demeanor. He knew that Edward had helped out in the past. There wasn't an extremely sterile environment to work in and he did not have a fear of blood. So why was everyone so reluctant to let him see?

When he had gotten to the bottom of the staircase, he saw Winry leaning over a table and over a blonde individual lying on top of it, on her stomach. Tossing the package in the air and catching it again, Edward took a few steps forward before saying, "Hey Winry! How's everything-"

The mechanic yipped in surprise, dropping the tool in her hand.

Instantly Edward ran forward and to Winry's side, dropping down on the floor to retrieve the object, which had rolled itself underneath the table.

"E-Ed," Winry stammered clumsily. "What are you doing-"

"I came by to bring you these," he responded with slight irritation as he held up the package of scalpels. Like Dr. Knox, she too did not seem too keen on him being there.

"Oh! Thank you," she responded as she took the package from his grasp. Stepping to try and block his view as he stood, she said, "I'll see you soon and upstairs, okay?"

"Yeah, sure-" He began to respond before something caught his eye. The same, familiar red he had seen before; the "scar" from Ishval.

Not being able to help it, he turned his full attention to it and zeroed in on it.

As his eyes scanned it, they narrowed in confusion before widening in realization.

On Hawkeye's back… Stretching out beneath the bloodied piece of metal now embedded into her shoulder was a design… An intricate array.

Before Winry could completely block his view, he saw a defining, crucial feature.

A red salamander… and flames.

Realization slammed into his stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

He had always wondered where the General had kept his notes on his "perfected" alchemy.

And now he knew.

Because what better place to hide them than on the back of the person that swore to protect yours?


	28. Marred

It all made sense now.

It was the ideal place to hide his research, right? Just stick it on the back of your most loyal and devoted subordinate, someone that was constantly nearby. That way he could assure that it was safe.

The longer he looked, the more bitter and enraged Edward became. Because now that he had a better look, he could see a plethora of scars that marred and tarnished what should have been flawless, light skin. Burn marks; most likely remnants of his regret.

He knew that Mustang was cunning and manipulative, but he never understood to what end. And now he knew.

Mustang had asked him for his trust over and over again throughout this entire ordeal, and Edward had given it to him. He even trusted him with the secret regarding Baschool. But now he regretted it. That caring, almost compassionate expressing he had worn had drawn Edward in. Now he couldn't help but wonder if that's the same expression he wore when he asked Hawkeye to hide his research. Won her trust over just like he had won Edward's.

If it hadn't been for the salamander and the remnants of the array that indicated it was flame alchemy, Edward would entertain the possibility of another explanation. But this… _This _was inexcusable. The "Flame Alchemist" had always claimed he was the one and only. There was no other explanation.

This was his work.

Edward clenched his fists at his side and whirled around and began to head toward the stairs. But before he got to them, Winry blocked his path, her bloodied hands raised in alarm; her widened eyes locked on him as her mouth moved silently. He moved to one side and attempted to walk around her when she obstructed his path again. Finally her voice reached him. "Ed, wait!"

Sidestepping around her, he growled, "Not now, Winry."

She made a move to place a hand on his shoulder, but withdrew her hand at the last moment, remembering that she was still considered sterile. "Edward, it's not what you think."

"Then what is it," he snapped harshly, tauntingly, causing her to pause. Seeing that he had thrown her off, he strode past her and began to ascend the steps.

"I don't know what it means, Ed! They told me not to tell so that-"

"So that they could cover Mustang's hide, right," he jeered in reply without turning back to face her.

Again she was speechless, unable to conjure up a reply for him. He knew, though, that she truly didn't know. No doubt they told her as little as possible, telling her only to keep Mustang's little secret hidden.

She pleaded his name once more, but it wasn't enough to stop him. He knew that she wouldn't be able to follow, not without disrupting the procedure and facing the risk of becoming non-sterilized. Time was valuable in this situation, so he used that fact to continue his climb.

Once at the top of the steps, he purposefully began to walk toward the most likely place the General would be: the living room. And sure enough, he heard two familiar voices as he approached it.

"You're getting good at this," he heard Mustang exclaim as he drew closer.

"Thanks," Alphonse responded back. "I've had a lot of – oh, Brother!"

As Edward stomped into the room, Mustang and Alphonse raised their heads from the game of chess they were playing to look at him. For a moment, the two of them wore warm smiles, though they quickly faded the longer they held his expression. Slowly Edward's eyes lingered over to Mustang's, who responded by raising his brows in question.

"Edward…?"

"Get away from him, Al," Edward spat as he kept his narrowed glare on the older man.

Alphonse let out a small chuckle of confusion and disbelief, "Brother, what-"

"I found your precious research notes, Mustang," Edward snapped venomously, any iota of focus on his younger brother gone with his words. "You must be proud of yourself, coming up with a place like that."

"What," the black-haired man asked incredulously as he rose to his feet, the color draining from his already paled face.

"Yeah, you heard me," Edward growled as he took a threatening step toward him. "A pen and paper weren't good enough for you, huh? You had to make sure it was hidden someplace no one would look!" He was in Mustang's face now, his nose inches from the superior officer's.

"Brother," Alphonse called out worriedly as he too rose to his feet. "What are you talking about?"

Keeping his blazing glare locked on obsidian eyes, Edward snarled, "I found his notes, Al. And you want to know where they were?" He paused for a beat, though not long enough for his younger brother to answer. "I found them carved onto the Lieutenant's back."

At those words, Mustang flinched, though he kept his paled face impassive. This only infuriated him further. It was the same stupid face he wore when he lied to him about Hughes. The same ridiculous deadpan he used when he deceived him regarding Lieutenant Ross. And even the same fabricated look he donned when he had lied about Hawkeye in the first place.

"W-what," Alphonse stammered as he turned to look at the General.

"Edward," Mustang began again in an attempt to reason with the youth.

"Don't 'Edward' me," the blond shot back. "You can't deny it. I saw it! That was flame alchemy!" When the older man's eyes flickered at the mention of his trade, Edward added, "And you destroyed her _back_ to keep it a secret!"

Mustang's eyes were suddenly aflame, glowering down at the blond with a newfound intensity.

Finally he was able to get a reaction from him.

But then Mustang's face changed, his expression melting away from a scowl to a look of sadness. Surprised by this, Edward was about to shoot something else toward the General when Mustang finally spoke.

"You are right, Edward. I won't deny that what you saw was flame alchemy. And I won't deny that I marred and destroyed her back. But please," he continued as his eyes softened, "Let me explain."

Had the General reacted in any other way, Edward would not have hesitated to make known his displeasure at an attempt to rectify something that was so blatantly obvious. But something about Mustang's expression stopped him; the sadness in the older man's eyes consuming Edward's feelings of bitterness and disturbance.

After taking a few more moments to search Mustang's face, Edward finally succumbed, the last bits of intense acidity melting away, leaving behind an equally intense eagerness for some other form of an explanation.

"Alright…"

* * *

"_Riza," Roy breathed as he took a step toward her. She did not respond, keeping her head bowed, as if ashamed of the array that decorated her back. Before he realized what he was doing, he was directly behind her, just inches from her now. Reaching out, his hand trembling slightly, he traced a finger along the part that stretched over her left shoulder. She flinched at the cold, clammy touch._

_A feeling of disgust swelled inside of him. "Did you consent to this," he growled, his voice harsher than he intended it to be._

_Again she did not respond._

"_Did you?"_

_Finally she nodded slightly and murmured a soft "yes."_

"_Why," he muttered, his disgust morphing into disbelief. "Why would you do such a-"_

"_To protect him," she quickly responded, her voice stronger than before. "To protect his research."_

"_But at the cost of your back," he replied, the harshness in his voice returning._

_At this she whirled around to face him. Instead of the saddened expression he believed would accompany her voice, her brown eyes were narrowed and blazing. "Yes," she answered firmly. With that she turned to face him, her arms crossed over her torso._

_He searched her expression for something that would counter what she had adamantly answered, but instead found something else. Feeling his expression soften, he murmured, "There's more to it than that, though, isn't there?"_

_Her eyes widened slightly as his observation and she pursed her lips together._

_He did not press further, however, watching as she struggled within herself to find the words that she was looking for to explain._

_Finally, she seemed to have come to a decision. "Yes… I did consent to this, Mr. Mustang. The choice was given to me and this is what I choose." When he made a move to speak, she interrupted him. "Despite what it may seem, I did respect my father and his work, and knew what it meant to carry its burden._

"_I knew from the moment I saw you, Mr. Mustang, that you were the one… The one that would carry on his legacy. And because of that," she whispered quietly, "I wanted to ensure that it would be passed onto you…"_

_He watched as she looked away from him, hugging herself even more tightly now, both literally and figuratively exposed to him. She had laid everything out before him, leaving her heart on her sleeve._

_A rush of guilt flooded his abdomen. She agreed to it for him…_

"_Riza," he took a step closer to her, his chest lightly pressed against her crossed arms. She made no attempt to move her arms away, keeping them firmly in place. "Riza, please…" Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. "You did this… Because of me?"_

_She nodded in reply._

"_But why," he practically cried, no longer able to keep his emotion in check. She destroyed her back, destroyed herself, for his sake!_

_Her eyes searched his face, taking in his look of exasperation. Without hesitating further, she quietly and confidently replied, "… Because I believe in you."_

* * *

Both Edward and Al sat quietly, slowly taking in the story Mustang had laid out for them.

He left no detail out, delving into his time as an apprentice under Hawkeye's father, recounting the years he spent mastering the most basic forms of alchemy so that he would one day become the next Flame Alchemist.

Instead, however, he had joined the military, believing that his knowledge of alchemy could help the masses.

But when he had returned from basic training, he found his master on his deathbed, now unwilling to teach him the alchemy he had long craved to learn. Instead of demanding and prying for the information, Mustang had supposedly let the alchemist's secrets die with him.

It was after that that Hawkeye revealed to him that the secrets had not been lost, allowing him complete access to them with the hope that his alchemy _would_ change the world for the better.

Edward knew, however, how that had turned out to be…

Even so, Mustang's story did not end there, detailing how, after the war had ended, Hawkeye promptly requested that he destroy the secrets to flame alchemy. All to prevent the birth of another flame alchemist…

So he burned her, scarred and marred her, so that the most dangerous of flame alchemy's secrets melted away with her flesh.

All of the doubt Edward had allowed to cloud his mind had long dissipated, replacing itself with a newfound respect for the pair he had grown to know and appreciate over the years. He realized now that the love he had seen in the picture of the pair when they were younger was true. It wasn't built on obligation and necessity. Instead, it was built on respect.

He had respected her enough to honor her wishes.

Edward now found that he was at a loss for words, realizing how incredibly immature he had been to jump to such a conclusion. When he finally looked up to meet Mustang's eyes, all he could muster up was a small "wow."

Mustang smiled sadly and said, "I don't blame you for reacting that way Edward. It was never let on how long I've known Ri- the Lieutenant. I understand why you reacted that way, because frankly, I probably would have done the same.

"But now that you know this, I am asking the both of you to please keep this a secret. If it is known that the secrets to flame alchemy are accessible through her, then her life and the lives of others will be in danger. Even with the notes that are left, the potential to cause significant harm is still there…

"Can I trust you two with this," Mustang asked, his eyes desperate.

"Of course," Alphonse piped up, nodding his head eagerly. "We understand, right Brother?"

When Mustang turned his attention toward Edward, instead of seeing any hint of anger or frustration, he saw that same compassion and understanding he had shown with him earlier. Now it was his turn to be a support for the General.

Bobbing his head up and down, Edward replied, "Yeah, of course."

After a quick sigh of relief, Mustang was about to say something when the sound of a heavy set of footsteps coming up the stairs interrupted him. Edward watched as his head shot up in time to see Dr. Knox wander into the room.

"You ready, General," the doctor asked.

Edward turned back in time to see Mustang nod in response. Casting one last, thankful glance toward Edward and Alphonse, the General hurriedly followed after the doctor and toward the staircase.

* * *

Sighing, Edward hung his head and closed his eyes. He was inwardly thankful that Alphonse had volunteered to return the chess set to Mustang's room. It gave him a few moments to think-

"Hey…"

Feeling the couch shift as someone sat next to him, Edward raised his head to look at the source of the voice. "Hey," he responded as his eyes met Winry's. "Everything go okay?"

She nodded in reply. "Everything went really well, actually," Winry said. "She didn't wake up at all and, from what I could tell, couldn't feel anything."

"Unlike me, right," Edward attempted to joke lightly.

The corners of Winry's lips twitched upward. "That's right."

He opened his mouth again to speak, but abruptly shut it as a wave of embarrassment washed over him. Just by seeing her expression, he knew that she wanted an explanation for his actions, as well as a rundown of what had happened after he had left. But first…

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She raised her brows in response, her eyes softening at the apology. "You don't need to apologize for anything, Ed."

He shook his head. "No, I think I do. It was wrong of me to assume something so quickly. I didn't think it through very clearly. And," he added quietly, "I took it out on you."

She too shook her head. "It's okay, Ed. Honestly, I can see why you thought that right off the bat." Reaching up, she clasped her hand on his shoulder and smiled softly. "It means that you care about your friends, Ed. That's nothing to be ashamed about. In fact," she said quietly, "That's…. Something I love about you."

At the mention of the 'L' word, Edward felt his face flush, the memory of that night back in Ishval came crashing back. He had nearly forgotten about it, accidentally saying the word before he hung up with her. Feeling his face grow redder by the second, he looked away slightly and muttered, "Oh, yeah?"

She chuckled lightly and replied, "Of course."

Turning his head back toward her, he saw that her face was a shade ruddier than when he had looked away, her blue eyes alight and her lips parted slightly. He found himself realizing just how… beautiful she looked, even if she was covered in grease and clothed in scrubs.

"Ah, great, great," he replied, his voice coming out a tad higher than usual.

She rolled her eyes and leaned into him slightly. "Dork," she murmured playfully.

Leaning back into her, a smile playing across his reddened face, he responded, "Automail freak."

* * *

"Take a seat right here, General," Knox offered as he gestured to the chair he had positioned next to the bed.

Roy eagerly obliged. As soon as he sunk into it, he leaned forward and took her features in.

Riza's eyes were still closed, her expression soft. Not a single sign of pain on her face. However, from what Edward had explained, he knew that it would be short-lived.

A small _clink_ caught his attention. Raising his eyes from her face, his eyes scanned around, looking for its source. It didn't take long, however, as a movement accompanied the sound the next time he heard it. Eyes coming to rest on it, his breath caught in his throat.

Peeking out from just beneath the blanket that covered her up to her neck was a metal hand. It again moved, clenching and unclenching; seemingly without any stimulation.

"Nerves are firing like crazy," Dr. Knox explained as he gestured to the foreign object. "Got plenty of pain medications pumped into her system, but her brain is still registering some of it."

Without drawing his eyes away from it, Roy mumbled, "Were there any complications?"

"Nope," Knox replied bluntly, albeit a bit proudly. "She performed beautifully under the anesthetic. Didn't flinch or react in any way throughout the entire procedure."

"That's… good," Roy said with a small sigh of relief.

"Dr. Marcoh warned me about what happened last time," Knox noted, drawing Roy's attention away from Riza for a moment. "Said she didn't wake up too well."

Roy nodded indolently, the images of blood and saline covered walls reentering his mind. He certainly couldn't forget that. "This time I'll be here," he murmured as he turned his attention back to her, noticing her stir slightly. Reaching out, he gently took her hand in his own.

She flinched in response, but was quick to accept his touch, her hand almost melting into his.

It took a few minutes, but soon her movements were more constant, more alert. At long last, Riza wearily opened her eyes.

Leaning forward and squeezing her hand, he lightly said, "Hey there... How are you feeling?"

Her eyes scanned the ceiling for a few moments before she seemingly registered his voice. Rolling her head to the side to view him better, she smiled lopsidedly. "Colonel…?"

He couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the small mistake, which he attributed to the anesthetic. "How are you feeling," he asked again.

Blinking slowly, Riza muttered, "Sleepy…"

"I'm sure you are… Does anything hurt?"

She thought about his question for a few moments before shaking her head side to side. Just as he was about to speak again, she turned her head away from him as the sound of a small _clink_reached their ears. He watched her eyes widen as she stared at the metal hand, registering it for the first time. Pulling her hand out of his, she clumsily reached over and clutched the part of the blanket that covered her arm. Tugging weakly at it, it finally came loose and fell away.

Riza blinked a few times in an attempt to process completely what she was seeing. Roy too found himself doing the same, the reality suddenly dawning on him.

Where there had once been nothing was now a metal arm, not unlike the one Edward had once had, aside from its more petite and smaller size. He noticed instantly that the flesh on her upper arm was not visible, the support snapped around it in order to connect it to the metal forearm and the plates now embedded into her shoulder.

It had all been so surreal up until this point.

Peeling his eyes away from it, Roy turned his focus back to Riza, only to find that she was still leering at it. After a few additional moments of staring at it, her face fell. "… Riza," he asked slowly, carefully.

"It's gone," she murmured dispassionately.

"Riza," Roy started again softly, reaching up and gingerly pressing his palm against her cheek.

Reaching up absently, she wrapped her hand around his wrist and squeezed it lightly. When she spoke again, however, her voice faltered. "It's… gone…" After taking a deep and shaking breath, her widened, tearful brown eyes slowly wandered over to meet his.

Moving his hand away from her cheek, he maneuvered her hand into his, leaned over and whispered, "I'm here," as he gently pressed his lips against her forehead.

At that she let loose a quiet sob, squeezing his hand tighter still.

"It's okay… I'm here," he murmured as he rested his forehead against hers, breathing in deeply. "I'm here."

* * *

**A/N: **_I apologize for the lack of updates and __I apologize for making Riza kind of cry-ey (can that be a descriptive word now?), but I just imagine that when she'd wake up the combination of anesthetic and actual realization would kind of hit her all at once… She had been so strong about it up until this point, but I'd imagine that, eventually, you have to crack. But if you're tired of the Royai moments like that, let me know; though it's hard to write them because Riza's still kind of confined to a bed :| __**But let me know if anything from this chapter, for any character, feels forced, rushed, or OOC. **__I've been really critical as of late…_


	29. Breathe

"Grab her legs," Mustang commanded as he leaned over Hawkeye and grabbed her wrist.

Alphonse quickly rushed to the end of the bed and caught her ankles mid-thrash. As he struggled to pin them, Edward hurried around to the other side of the bed and crouched down, wrapping his fingers around Hawkeye's.

They thought they had the pain controlled, but the intervals with which it worked seemed to drastically change every day. Sometimes it would last for the entire day, but other times it seemed to only work for a few hours. Regardless, there was only one way to know when it had stopped working as she slept.

Without any warning Hawkeye's hand would fly up and to her left shoulder, her fingers digging beneath the metal plating and into the flesh below it in an attempt to peel it away from her body. Despite the fact that her muscles were still atrophied and weak, it took the combined effort from both Mustang and Edward to pry her hand out from under it.

As soon as Edward's fingers curled around her own, Hawkeye's eyes flew open and darted around panickedly, attempting to identify her supposed attackers. Seeing this, Mustang let go of her wrist and knelt down next to her, placing a hand on her forehead as he leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.

For a moment, Edward stopped and waited, holding his breath. A few beats later, her eyes widened and a look of relief replaced itself on her face. Edward too felt relief wash over him, remembering the first time they had woken her up under similar circumstances.

Mustang later explained to him that that had been the condition they found her in, though Edward never knew about it. For that entire month he was gone, Hawkeye had been unable to see or hear Mustang, or anyone for that matter. According to Dr. Knox, it was something that was common for people that had been through a traumatic experience to lose a sense or two temporarily in an attempt to cope with the trauma.

So now when she frequently woke up, it would be as if she had taken ten steps backward, resorting to coping by blocking them out. Luckily, however, it seemed that Mustang had a code. After realizing what was going on, he would frantically tap it on her arm until she recognized him. After that, it would be a matter of minutes or hours before her senses returned.

It seemed that this time, however, no such thing happened.

A look of desperation crossed her face as she began to take rapid, shallow breaths, trying frantically to alleviate the pain in some way.

* * *

"_Nnnnnnngh-gahhh!" Crying out, Edward clawed furiously at the foreign object that was piercing his shoulder from all angles, trying desperately to tear it away from his flesh. _

_It felt as if hundreds of daggers were piercing his shoulder and his nerves were set aflame. Letting out another cry of anguish, he writhed and rolled, attempting to find an angle that would give him enough leverage…_

_At last, he felt it. Pushing his fingers further and further beneath the plating, he lifted up on it, relieving the pressure only slightly. But it was enough to dull the pain momentarily. _

_Panting and gasping, he desperately tried to regain his composure as the sound of clanking filled his ears._

_He couldn't let Al see him like this. He just couldn't…! _

_But just as Al's footsteps stopped outside of his door, Edward heard a voice._

"_Hey Al," he heard Winry say through the door, "Before you visit Ed, could you grab me a few dampened washcloths?"_

"_Oh, of course," Al chirped, his large metallic body clinking as he turned away from the door and began to walk away._

_Edward sighed with relief, though his feeling was short-lived. _

_Moments after he heard Al disappear, he heard the door open, revealing a disheveled and distressed Winry Rockbell. Rushing over to his bedside, she dropped to her knees beside him and grasped his hand between her own. _

"_Ed," she murmured softly, "Let go."_

"_W-wait," he stammered, feeling the pain begin to return. "J-just wait a minute."_

"_Ed, this isn't going to help you heal." She slowly began to pry his fingers away from the steel plating, one by one._

"_S-stop," he begged as he desperately tried to curl his fingers beneath the plating again. "Stop!"_

"_Ed," she pleaded, "Please…"_

_He defeatedly loosened his fingers, knowing that they eventually had to come out. "I-I can't let A-Al see me… like this," he moaned as she extracted the last finger he had buried beneath the steel out. _

"_I know you don't want to," she agreed. Raising his hand up to eyelevel, she then murmured, "Oh, Ed…"_

_He knew without having to look what she was referring to. _

_His constant picking and prying had taken a toll on his fingers and nails, wearing them so far down that they were nearly worn to the bone. Edward could feel the beginnings of the dull throb at their tips that would soon transform into a roaring pain._

_He flinched when Winry began to clean his fingers with antiseptic wipes, taking care not to rub too harshly. "Does your leg hurt too," she asked quietly._

_He resisted for a moment, but finally gave her a single sharp nod in reply. It hurt just as badly as his shoulder, but it was next to impossible to reach down and attempt to relieve the pressure there. Working at his shoulder seemed to compensate for the pain, however, by drawing it away._

"_It's okay to say it hurts, you know," Winry said softly as she continued to work. _

"_I know," he snapped back. Realizing how harsh he had sounded, he muttered a quick "I'm sorry" immediately after._

"_It's fine," she assured him. "I get it."_

_Edward was about to counter when he heard Al's clanking footsteps returning. At the same time, however, Winry had begun to wrap his fingers, the compression of the tape inflaming them. Reacting to the pain, he began to pant and gasp feverishly. _

"_Just breathe," she quietly commanded. Taking a deep breath, and then exhaling, she said, "Breathe…"_

_Following suit, Edward took a large gulp of air and exhaled, then quickly took another._

"_Slow down." Again she inhaled deeply, simulating the task for him._

_Hearing Al's footsteps getting closer, Edward again took a deep breath, but this time held it for a moment. When Winry exhaled, he mirrored the motion._

"_Just breathe…"_

* * *

"Just breathe," Edward murmured as he pulled the last of her two fingers out from between the steel and her flesh.

Her silent, screaming eyes darted up to meet his, begging for relief.

"Breathe," he said again as he inhaled deeply and slowly.

Attempting to follow suit, she took a series of short, quick gulps of air.

"Breathe," he murmured again as he shook his head, again taking a deep breath.

This time she caught her breath enough to mirror the task he had asked of her, taking a deep breath as she focused on him.

After holding his breath for a few moments, he slowly exhaled, Hawkeye following not too far behind in the action. Once she had taking enough deep breaths, her grip on Edward's hand loosened. Blinking wearily, she muttered, "I'm sorry," as he looked Edward in the eye before turning back to Mustang.

"It's alright," Mustang sighed as he pushed her sweat-soaked hair away from her face. "No need to apologize…"

Pulling her hand away from Edward's, she raised her arm and laid it across her eyes and winced. Taking another deep breath, she exhaled slowly again and murmured, "Alright…"

Edward noticed Mustang's eyes wander down to her bloodied hand, noticing that not all the blood had come from just her shoulder. He watched as the older man gently grabbed her hand and guided it toward his face, not unlike how Winry had done years ago. As he observed her fingers, Edward too found himself eyeing them. Just like he had done before, her fingers were nearly worn to the bone from the constant tearing and prying she did in her sleep.

As his eyes slowly moved back up to see Mustang, he saw the older man try his best to smile. But he could see in his expression that Mustang was hurting too, and almost as badly as Hawkeye…

When Mustang's obsidian eyes caught Edward's, Edward caught the silent message he conveyed to him. _Please get the gauze rolls and alcohol… again._

* * *

After that whole ordeal, Edward and Alphonse were excused so that Mustang and Dr. Knox could tend to Hawkeye. From the looks of it, she didn't pull the skin away from the plating, so they wouldn't have to call Winry to come back and patch her up. Edward was relieved at that fact; the automail mechanic had been almost obsessive with wanting to come over and reevaluate Hawkeye every day to see her progress. She knew that she cared, but after a while Mustang put his foot down, and even then Edward agreed.

From the sounds of it, things were quiet in Central. No new leads and no sightings of the behemoth Edward had encountered in Ishval. So that meant that whoever took his report was still at large in Central City. For now, he supposed, it was best that Winry stay away.

With a sigh, Edward leaned back and rested his palms against the front porch step and leaned his head back, allowing himself to bask in the sun's warm glow. It felt like it had been ages since he was able to sit and just relax like this. In a few minutes he'd go inside and urge Mustang to take a break, because god knew he needed it…

"Hey, Ed."

Edward's head snapped up on recognizing the voice. He watched as Lieutenant Colonel Rodin made his way up the drive and toward the house. Raising a brow curiously, the man said, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Edward responded. "Just a bit tired is all."

"I bet," Rodin murmured in response. "How's she doing?"

Edward shrugged wearily. "As good as you can ever be when you have a hunk of metal attached to your body."

The Lieutenant Colonel nodded sympathetically. "I can't even begin to imagine…"

"Yeah," Edward said again with a shrug. "So," he noticed, "What brings you here, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"Ah, well," Rodin began, "There's been a bit of a development in the case…" When Edward raised his brow in question, Rodin admitted, "You know our suspect, Nikolas Vansin?"

Edward nodded. Of course he did. At the thought of the man, the scar at his side began to ache.

"Well," Rodin began slowly, "During transport to Central Prison today, his escort was attacked. And… He's dead."

* * *

"I can't believe this," Mustang muttered quietly as he stared down at his hands, neatly folded and atop the table. "How did this happen?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Rodin appealed sadly. "They somehow knew the route the guards were taking. From there it was a matter of stopping the truck in a less populated area and then making their move."

"Why kill him, though? Why kill one of their supposed 'brothers'?"

"You remember what he said about when they," Rodin paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words for the General, "Attacked her." At that Mustang shuddered, and said nothing, so the Lieutenant Colonel continued. "The eliminated that man like he was nothing, sir. Obviously Vansin wasn't that important to them either, or he had said too much. Because," he added as he pulled out a manila folder and opened it, leafing through it, "He had a lot to say in the end."

"Lieutenant Colonel," Mustang pried as he eyed the envelope.

Shaking his head, Rodin said, "I won't allow you to see this now, but I will say that there was more than the sensory deprivation they employed. It's as if… as if they treated it like some sort of social experiment."

Edward saw a flash of pain cross the Lieutenant Colonel's face, and he knew that what Vansin said had not been good. Remembering back to a meeting he was forced to attend, Edward can remember the long list of interrogation methods that opposing countries could use in order to obtain information. Waterboarding, oxygen deprivation, starvation, phobia exploitation. All of them horrible and sickening in their own ways. And from the looks of the Lieutenant Colonel's face, Edward was sure he thought of at least one additional method.

The thought was nauseating, doing that to someone; enjoying it and watching the fear in their eyes. And then there was the thought of Hawkeye in that position. Seeing her stoic and determined composure slip and crumble was something he had never hoped to see. The nightmares and outbursts they witnessed now could be attributed to the automail, but he also knew that somewhere, deep inside of her mind, she was imagining that she was back there again.

The pain and agony he had experienced because of his automail surgery oftentimes forced him to relive that moment when he saw Truth over and over again.

Over and over again he was forced to lose his arm, leg, and younger brother again. So sometimes when he woke up drenched in a cold sweat, he would believe that he was still without limbs, and still believe that Al was trapped at the gate.

Once he had come to his senses, he knew where he stood and knew that his brother was still here… for the most part. So he understood what was going on in Hawkeye's mind during those night terrors, because he too was forced to relive the incident over and over again. No doubt, he guessed, she was reliving some of those "social experiments" as well…

"Alright," he heard Mustang mutter as he was pulled from his thoughts. He was slightly surprised at first to see Mustang give in so easily… Until he got a good look at this face.

He knew that the General was exhausted, but mixed in with that tiredness was dread and understanding. He too was able to pick up on what the Lieutenant Colonel was implying, and he most likely decided for his sanity and hers, that he would not ask.

Understanding this, Rodin nodded and placed his hand protectively over the envelope. After a few moments, he mused, "I just figured I should let you know what was going on, sir." When Mustang nodded, he added, "Eventually I will need a statement from both of you regarding the suspect, and while sooner is better, I don't want to rush you."

"I understand, Lieutenant Colonel. I will-" Mustang paused for a moment, straining to listen. Edward too stopped, but heard nothing. Fidgeting slightly, the General said, "I could possibly do it…" Again he stopped and listened, but heard nothing.

"If you want," Edward finally piped up, "I can do it now to get it over with."

"We certainly could, but we'd have to do it at Central Headquarters in order to properly document it," Rodin explained. "If that's something you're okay with, then I'm willing to do it today."

When Edward glanced over at Mustang, the older man raised his brows thoughtfully, considering the notion. Turning back to Rodin, Edward said, "I'm okay with it."

Rodin nodded in reply and looked at Mustang. "You can always do it another day, sir. Like I said, sooner is better, but I don't want to rush-"

"No, I agree. The sooner, the better." After pausing to listen, he muttered, "I could come by in an hour or so to finish my statement… I just need to tend to something first."

Understanding this, Rodin nodded thoughtfully. "Of course, sir." Turning toward Edward, he said, "If you'd like, you can come by now and I can take you. That way we can finish up before the General comes, and you could catch a ride back with him."

Out of the corner of his eye, Edward saw Mustang glance at him, waiting for a response. Shrugging, Edward replied, "Sure, why not."

* * *

"I hope you don't mind, Edward, but I just have to stop by my place for a minute," Rodin explained as he turned off of Main Street and made his way down one of the many side streets in Central. "I just have to pick up a few documents that I left at home."

"Sure, no problem," Edward mumbled in response as he watched the hustle and bustle of Central passing them by.

"Perfect," Rodin replied as he stopped the car in front of an apartment building, "Because we're here."

"Wow," Edward noted, "You're pretty close to Headquarters, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Rodin smiled as he climbed out of the car, prompting Edward to do the same. "I was lucky, considering I had to transfer here on such short notice."

Following behind the man and stopping just behind him, waiting for him to fish his keys out of his pocket, Edward observed, "Oh yeah, that's right. And you didn't get to bring your family, did you?"

Rodin shook his head as the lock gave. Pushing the door open, he said, "No. They're still back in West City. I would have liked to bring them, but with the kids in school and my wife working, it would have been too much." Leading Edward up to a second door, he fumbled with the lock for a moment. "At the very least I'm able to talk to them every day or so, and for that I'm thankful."

Pushing the door open, he invited Edward inside. As Edward entered the apartment, he noticed how… empty it was, with only a few boxes strewn about. Chuckling, Rodin said, "It isn't much to be honest. I haven't had a lot of time to furnish it and make it livable." Gesturing for Edward to take a seat on the dusty brown couch in the middle of the room, the Lieutenant Colonel said, "Feel free to make yourself at home, Edward. I'll just get those documents from my room and we'll head out."

As Edward took a seat he watched Rodin disappear down the hallway and into his supposed bedroom. Looking over to his right he saw a dusty jacket laid across the back of the couch. Most likely worn when the Lieutenant Colonel went to Ishval. Picking it up, Edward began to move it away from him when a piece of paper fell out of one of the pockets. Replacing the jacket in another position, Edward picked the paper up and was about to repocket it when he stopped.

Looking down at it curiously, he realized that it was a train ticket. However, his curiosity quickly drained away, as did the blood from his face.

The ticket was stamped for the days before they found Hawkeye… and the destination was Ishval. If Edward remembered correctly, and he was confident he did, the Lieutenant Colonel said that he had rushed there to meet them _after_ they found Hawkeye.

"Oh," he heard a sinister voice say from behind him. "It seems I won't be able to keep this charade up any longer."

As Edward whirled around to face the monster that had deceived them, something heavy and hard contacted the back of his skull, knocking him out instantly.

* * *

**A/N: **_…So, congratulations to __**Victorious Mind, Rookie Bee, and waddiwasiwitch **__for voicing their distrust of Rodin at some point during the story. You were right! _

_After mulling over everything and planning, I actually discovered that I have 4-5 chapters left O.o But like I said before, I have a few plans up my sleeve…_

_Also, to anyone that read _Murderer_, I posted Riza's POV and made a small note in there that there is one sentence that foreshadows something that will happen in a few chapters ;)_

_And to guest reviewer __**LadyTango**__, I hope that your favorite chair is still intact ;)_

_So thank you to everyone that has favorited, followed, and reviewed so far! See you for Chapter 30!_


	30. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**A/N: **_It's shorter than I expected but everything happened the way I planned it out to be, just not in as many words as I anticipated. I have three exams next week, so bear with me. I've started working on the next chapter, which WILL be longer._

* * *

After watching Edward and Alphonse leave, Roy immediately turned back to Riza, who had moved her arm back over her eyes, panting heavily as her body trembled uncontrollably. Reaching forward again, Roy gently removed her arm and held her hand between his own, examining her fingers again when he raised it to his eyes.

The skin was definitely tattered and frayed there. Through the torn flesh and the copious amount of blood present, he could begin to make out the tendons and ligaments that attached to her digits, letting him know that the only thing left eventually would be bone. He had tried so hard, had been so alert, and yet this _still _happened on his watch. He should be faster, better, more attentive-

"I'm sorry," she moaned weakly as her eyes wandered up to meet his. "It… just happens. I don't even realize that… I'm doing it… I'm so sorry."

Smiling sadly, Roy shook his head and gently squeezed her palm between his hands. "You don't have to be sorry, Riza. We both knew what could possibly happen going into this." Reaching over to the supplies Edward and Alphonse had left on the bedside table, he grasped an alcohol-soaked cotton ball and raised it to her fingertips. Ever so gently, he began to dab them, which elicited a hiss of pain from Riza. He pulled it away and froze, but she did not flinch away; instead, the look she gave him invited him to continue.

Reluctantly, he continued, taking care to touch them as lightly as he could. After each cotton ball would become a deep red, he quickly discarded it and started again, continuing like this until the red staining was almost too dull to see. Once that was done he wrapped each individual finger until they had almost a quarter of an inch of padding surrounding them.

Sitting back and surveying his handiwork, Roy wracked his brain trying to figure out a solution to this issue. Despite constantly wrapping her fingers, the combination of the steel's freshly cut edges and Riza's subconscious determination to get to the surgical site proved to be worthy adversaries to their best efforts. After staring at her bandaged fingers for a few moments, an idea struck him. Reaching into his pocket, he produced one of his decorative white gloves and slipped it carefully over the bandages.*

Once it was secured, he looked over her fingertips to find that she was watching him. Smiling, he gently turned her hand and pressed his lips lightly against her knuckles, his gaze holding hers the entire time.

As he was about to pull away, however, she moved her gloved hand and pressed it against his cheek. He responded by moving his hand up and on top of hers, smiling lightly as he did so.

She however, did not smile. Instead her brown eyes scanned his face, as if she were searching for something in his expression. Finally, Riza exhaled and muttered, "I feel as if I made a mistake." When Roy raised his brows in a mix of confusion and concern, she elaborated, "I knew the risks, and I expected the pain... But I didn't expect this."

"Expect what," he asked softly as he squeezed her hand.

She did not answer right away, as if unsure of how she wanted to answer. When it seemed as if she found her words, she slowly said, "I didn't expect you, Edward, and Alphonse to have to do so much. It's just like before... You could be doing so much with your time, but instead you're all stuck here taking care of me."

"Hey now," he scolded softly, "Don't think like that. If the boys wanted to be elsewhere, they would be." Smiling he added, "Most of the time they're eager to help, especially Edward. He's normally the first to know what to do. He's been an incredible help; not because he feels obliged to, but because he _wants_ to."

The statement did not seem to comfort her, though. "I don't want to be a burden," she murmured dejectedly. "I'm idle, lacking in purpose. I should be-"

"You should be doing no such thing," he objected, knowing full well what she was getting at. "You are healing. Let me take care of you for once."

With a small sigh, she rolled her head so that she was looking up at the ceiling. "Give me one year," she murmured. "I know I won't be able to heal like Edward did... But it'll be enough... Enough to continue watching your back."

Roy didn't completely agree but he didn't argue with her, knowing that her mind was made up. He knew her position in the military was compromised, but this was neither the time nor place to discuss this fact. Instead, he would continue to stand by her and protect _her _for once.

* * *

Something wasn't right. They should have been here by now.

Looking down at his watch, Roy confirmed that it was a quarter past the hour. It was approximately two hours since they had left. Edward should have been in the room, or just getting out by now. There was no way they would leave before he got there. The Lieutenant Colonel was supposed to be the one running the show; he was supposed to be asking them the questions. So then… Where were they?

With a frustrated groan, Roy whirled around and promptly made his way toward the Investigations Office in an attempt to find _someone_ that knew what was going on. It didn't take him long, however, to run into Major Armstrong.

Upon seeing the General, Major Armstrong quickly raised his hand in salute and addressed Roy. Dismissing him quickly, Roy asked if he had seen the Lieutenant Colonel or Edward around.

Shooting him a confused look, Major Armstrong replied, "I did not expect Lieutenant Colonel Rodin in until tomorrow, sir. Especially after what happened earlier today…"

After Roy probed him about seeing or hearing Edward, it was confirmed that the young boy hadn't been present there either. After thanking the Major, Roy quickly backtracked and made one last pass by the room just to be sure.

_Think… _He snapped at himself silently. _If they aren__'__t here, then where could they be? _For a moment, his heart skipped a beat, realizing that it were possible they too were targeted. But how could that be?! Rodin had always been so careful, so precise…

Until he heard any news of a possible attack, Roy would try to keep those thoughts and the dread that accompanied them at the back of his mind. Both of them were capable and smart enough… There was no way that could happen.

As he hurried along through Headquarters, Roy remembered that the Lieutenant Colonel oftentimes brought his work home with him. Perhaps, he reasoned, they had stopped by Rodin's apartment to pick up the documents. It were entirely possible that they "got stuck" there, especially if pictures of his children and family were involved.

Stopping at one of the available phone lines, he wracked his brain, trying to remember the Lieutenant Colonel's home phone number. Once he was confident he had pulled it from his memory, he punched in the number and held the receiver to his ear, holding his breath as it rang.

Five rings later there was no answer.

With a frustrated growl he slammed the receiver back onto its cradle. Whirling around to face the phone attendant, he asked, "Could you send a message to the military police to await a call from me?"

Eyeing him confusedly, she replied, "O-of course, General. Is there something going on?"

"Just the misplacement of two individuals, Miss. Before I advance further, I want to check one additional place for their whereabouts."

He couldn't raise the alarm. Not yet. If nothing was awry and he was accused of crying wolf, then reinforcements would be difficult to obtain if something _did_ happen in the future.

His men were lying low as well; they weren't here. If need be, he knew that they would mobilize the second they received his call. But first…

There was one last place he could check... One last place before all hell would break loose.

* * *

Where were they?!

After stopping by the Lieutenant Colonel's residence and pounding on the door for nearly five minutes, Roy finally decided that they weren't there. As he slid into the driver's side of Dr. Knox's vehicle, a sense of dread and worry washed over him.

What if something _had_ happened to them? What if it happened in a less populated area and the MPs hadn't been called it yet?

He needed to get back to Dr. Knox's to account for everyone else. From there he could send out a message detailing his suspicions. It would be impossible for him to comb the entire city by himself. He would need help. He would need reinforcements. He would need anyone available to help with the search.

As he shifted the car into drive, Roy's stomach lurched and he nearly fell ill. The very thought that someone else could be taken and the same thing that happened to Riza could happen to them was nauseating. If that happened to either one of them, he would never forgive himself.

So for now he had to drive and pray that when he got back to Dr. Knox's, they would be there…

* * *

Putting the car into park, Roy wearily rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to chase the desire to sleep away. After taking a few moments to wake himself up, he grasped the car's door handle and opened it, sliding out of the car, his eyes on the house the entire time.

Rodin's car wasn't here and it seemed eerily still.

Not wanting to waste any time, however, he quickly made his way to the house and opened the front door.

The lights were out and it seemed as if there wasn't a soul around. "Hello," he called out as he took a step forward, the floorboards creaking loudly beneath his feet.

There was no response.

"Edward? Alphonse?" Another few steps forward, each footfall causing the boards to creak beneath his weight.

Nothing.

"Dr. Knox," he tried, but in vain.

He stopped when he heard a creak, then another. He wasn't moving, but it continued. As he whirled around, he was pummeled by something massive and heavy, catapulting him into darkness.

* * *

With a loud groan, Edward slowly felt his senses returning, accompanied by a painful throbbing on the back of his skull. When he opened his eyes, he tried to focus on something, but found that he couldn't, the image before him too blurry to process.

After blinking a few times, everything slowly came into focus. In front of him he could see Alphonse sitting in a chair, his head hanging slow. Narrowing his eyes, Edward tried desperately to figure out exactly _why _he was doing so. If he were sleeping, there was a bed available for-

Suddenly it hit him. No… This wasn't right. He had been at the Lieutenant Colonel's apartment. They had been getting documents for the case. Except… Except…

Realization once again flooded his gut. Except… He had found that train ticket. The one that put the Lieutenant Colonel in Ishval before they had even launched the mission to retrieve Hawkeye.

And that voice… The one he had heard before he had been plunged into darkness… It had belonged to Lieutenant Colonel Rodin.

Blinking a few times, he began to realize that Alphonse wasn't sleeping sitting up in the chair. He was unconscious, his hands tied behind his back… A prisoner.

In an attempt to launch forward and toward his younger sibling, Edward suddenly found that he too was bound to a chair. Struggling desperately and fighting against his bindings, he began to understand just how "stuck" he was. Not only were his hands bound… But his feet as well.

Looking around panickedly, he tried to figure out where he was. But as he surveyed the area around him, he discovered that he was back at Dr. Knox's house, which meant that…

At that instant his eyes landed on a form lying motionlessly in front of the roaring fire that was lit and alive in the home's fireplace. As his eyes readjusted, he could make out a mess of blonde hair on the form, whose back was to him. _Hawkeye…_

At the sound of a demented cackle, Edward's head instantly snapped up and toward its source. Standing in the corner and concealed by the shadows was a dark, looming form. Noticing Edward's wakefulness, it advanced forward until it enough light was cast onto it to make it recognizable. A man... His face scarred and his head bald. A Cheshire grin running from the corners of his lips to his ears.

The behemoth Edward had encountered so long ago...

Edward's attention was drawn away from the giant when he heard a creak. Panickedly whipping his head around, he at last saw the one that had pulled the wool over their eyes; the wolf in sheep's clothing.

Standing beside a third chair was Rodin, his hand placed in its back and a wicked grin on his face. And seated in the chair, head hanging low was Mustang.

They were all there... And all completely at the mercy of the deranged men.

* * *

**A/N**: _I figured I would 100% clarify the * I put into the story in the first part. The glove is not one of Roy__'__s ignition gloves. I can't imagine it would be good to rub an ignition glove against a piece of steel... Especially if it makes a spark._

_Next chapter we find out why Rodin is doing what he's doing. I will also include a list of small hints, etc. I gave throughout the fic that subtly points to him being the culprit._

_Finally, thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm sorry I didn't reply to them; I've been mostly on mobile and it's difficult for me to do! So thank you to __**Victorious Mind, wadiwasiwitch, This is where my name should go, EvilashOtaku17, Volixia669, android727, LordDragneel, Guest, Brenne, ScarkitTheMadaNeko, and Rookie Bee **__for the reviews!_


	31. Breaking Point

As Roy slowly became aware of the pounding, throbbing pain on the back of his skull, a shrill and malicious laugh ripped through the air. Eyes shooting open, Roy snapped his head up and found himself face-to-face with Lieutenant Colonel Rodin, whose icy blue eyes stared mockingly back. "Lieutenant… Colonel," he croaked confusedly, unsure of how or why he was where he was. He had just arrived at Dr. Knox's house when…

His eyes abruptly widened as realization struck him, the fog in his mind dissipating instantaneously. He had been looking for Edward and the Lieutenant Colonel… and that was the last thing he remembered.

Realizing that he was in a sitting position, he attempted to get up, but found that his legs wouldn't cooperate with him, nor would his hands. Struggling for a moment, he discovered that his hands and feet were bound to one of Dr. Knox's wooden kitchen chairs. Looking back up desperately, he said, this time with more clarity, "Lieutenant Colonel, what hap-"

"Mustang!"

Whipping his head to his left, he saw that Edward too was seated and, just like him, had been restrained. When his desperate golden eyes caught Roy's, Edward yelled, "Don't listen to him. He's-"

At that the Lieutenant Colonel strode over to him and cracked his hand across the youth's face, resulting in yell of surprise from Edward as the chair he sat in rocked unevenly in its place. As Roy opened his mouth to cry out in confusion, he heard a yell to his right.

Jerking his head around, he saw Alphonse in the same predicament as he and Edward, bound and strapped to a chair. The younger brother's golden eyes were locked on his older brother, his expression a mix of horror and fear. When he attempted to rock forward a massive hand pressed down on his shoulder, stopping the motion.

Following the arm up to its owner, Roy recognized it as the man from the pictures…

_Giordani_…

"What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant Colonel," Roy demanded as he snapped back to the lesser officer with newfound contempt.

Rodin raised his brows innocently as he turned back to face Roy. After a few moments of watching Roy's face, his lips curved upward into a devious grin. "Why, I'm just having a little fun before we begin."

"Begin," Roy echoed back bemusedly. His attention, however was immediately ripped away as he zeroed in on the fireplace on the opposite side of the room upon hearing a loud gasp. He watched as Riza began to frantically turn her head, trying desperately to make sense of her new surroundings. In a fit of panic and confusion, she attempted to push herself over, trying to lift herself upright enough to do so. But just as she had pushed herself halfway up, Rodin rushed over to her and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her upright.

As she yelped in pain, he turned her and released her hair, grabbing the collar of her shirt instead. With another sharp intake of air, she instinctively clawed at his arm, frantically trying to right herself as her gasps quickly turned into panicked heaves.

"Get your hands off her," Roy roared as he surged forward in his chair. He would have knocked it off of its feet, had it not been for the monster of a man that had decided to station himself behind his chair.

At the sound of his voice, Riza's eyes darted over to him, then back to Rodin, over to Giordani, before settling back on him. "R-Roy," she gasped as she released her grip on Rodin's arm, reaching out toward him.

Seeing this, the Lieutenant Colonel cackled as he lowered her backwards and toward the fireplace's roaring flames. Feeling the heat on her back, she desperately grabbed Rodin's arm again, trying to lift herself away from it.

Smirking maliciously, the Lieutenant Colonel peered over his shoulder at Roy. "I don't think you're in the position to be making any demands, Roy-boy."

Glaring venomously at the Lieutenant Colonel, Roy was about to fire back when another gasp drew his attention back to Riza. While he was focusing on the lower ranking officer, Rodin had slowly lowered her backward and toward the fire again, the flames now licking and nipping just inches from the tips of her hair. In response she frantically dug at his arm with her hand in an attempt to draw herself away from the heat, her automail arm swaying uselessly at her side.

"S-stop," Roy cried out in desperation. "Please!"

With a mild scoff, Rodin slowly raised her away from the flames and promptly tossed her to the side and against the fireplace's legs. Ignoring her cry of pain, he whirled around, marched over to Roy and snarled, "And did you stop?"

"What," Roy breathed as his eyes wandered over to Riza, who had stabilized herself against the edge of the fireplace. He could tell by the look on her face, the fear in her eyes, that she could slip at any moment. He needed to keep Rodin's attention on _him_.

Staring the deranged Lieutenant Colonel in the eye, he asked again, "What do you mean?"

The question seemed to cause something to snap inside Rodin, as the subordinate officer bent over to Roy's level and snarled, "Did you ever think to stop during the Ishvalan War?"

* * *

"_What are you doing here," Don Rodin cried out as he glared in disbelief at the young soldier in front of him._

_The young dark-haired man sheepishly saluted back, his steely blue eyes staring at the older soldier with uncertainty. "Sir, I-"_

"_Don't 'sir' me," Don snapped back as he stepped forward and closed the distance between them, staring down at the younger soldier. "Tell me why you're here."_

"_I," the young soldier squeaked back, "I wanted to help. They needed soldiers… So I thought I could-"_

"_There are other ways to help, you know," Don snapped. "Being dragged into this hellhole should not have been an option for you, James!"_

_Staring shyly down at his own feet, the younger man muttered, "I'm sorry… Brother."_

* * *

_A nearby explosion shook the ground beneath them, prompting the two brothers to look up from their meals and at the fireball that rose into the nighttime sky. After watching it dissolve into the air, Don turned back to his food and scooted closer to the fire they sat around. When he realized that his younger brother hadn't returned to his meal, he raised a brow quizzically._

_Noticing his older brother's gesture from the corner of his eye, James peeled his eyes away from the spot where the massive fire had been as he muttered, "Flame alchemist…"_

_With a scoff, Don grumbled, "I wouldn't aspire to be like him, James." When his brother eyed him curiously, he elaborated, "He's a true dog of the military. Barely eats, sleeps, or breathes without higher command breathing down his neck." Staring up at the sky as another fireball erupted from the Ishvalan town, he muttered, "Has to take a command whether he likes it or not. Hell, I've heard he's even burned a few of our own."_

_With a gasp of shock, James's eyes widened in disbelief, "But why?!"_

_Shrugging nonchalantly, Don replied, "Think about it. If you've got twenty of the enemy and three of your men in a location and you have the chance to eliminate them, would you do it?"_

"_Of course not," James responded definitively as he shook his head. "That's inhuman, that's-"_

"_War," Don corrected with a tinge of sadness. "This is war, Jim. And you," he said as he glanced at his brother with remorse, "Shouldn't be here. You should be back in West City, looking for a job and living your life. You've got so much potential and-"_

"_That doesn't matter right now," James replied as he shook his head. "I can't do much from home, but here I can. I know you don't approve, but once the war is over and we all go home I'll find a job… and a girl." Despite the shadows the flickering flames cast on his younger brother's face, Don could still make out a small blush grace James's cheeks._

_Smiling softly, Don pried, "You thinking about Laura?"_

_Quickly looking away from his brother and toward the ground, the redness in his cheeks growing brighter, James stammered, "N-no! Of course not!"_

_Chuckling lightly, Don responded, "Sure, bud. Sure."_

* * *

"_Hey!"_

_Looking up, Don saw James jog over to him, his gun slung over his shoulder. "How was your day," the younger of the two brothers asked._

"_Exhausting," Don admitted as he sank down onto a nearby rock and sighed. "And long," he admitted. _

"_You're in interrogations, right," James asked curiously._

"_Yeah," Don muttered. "Not that I like it a whole lot right now, though."_

"_Why's that," James asked as he seated himself on a piece of rubble across from his older brother._

_Moving his shoulders up and down, Don responded, "I don't like hurting them. Higher command expects us to 'test out a few methods' and whatnot. They don't even want any information from them… They just want us to hurt them."_

"_What do you have to do," his younger brother asked cautiously._

"_Anything," Don admitted. "I've tried convincing them to use other methods… Something that won't scare them or… kill them," he added as he trailed off. After sitting silently for a few moments, he could still feel his younger brother's eyes on him, the curiosity exuding off of him. Sighing he said, "When I was in the academy, I took a Xingese methodology course and one of the topics we covered was fighting techniques. Buried in that subject matter was a technique to disrupt a person's Dragon Pulse, or energy flow, by applying pressure to critical areas of the body."_

"_Like a pressure point," James wondered out loud._

_Surprised, Don looked up at his younger brother and nodded. "Yeah. Exactly like that. How'd you know?"_

_James shrugged. "Something I read a while back." _

_Shaking his head, Don lightly muttered, "Always the bookworm, weren't you?"_

_His younger brother smiled sheepishly at the comment then quickly changed the subject. "Do they ever let you do it?"_

_Don shrugged slightly. "Sometimes," he responded truthfully. _

"_Oh," was all his younger brother could muster up as his saddened eyes scanned downward, resting on the dirt between his feet._

_Don watched his younger brother for a few moments. This is why he didn't want him to join in the first place. Had he known that all of those letters from him were coming from the academy, he would have made sure James wouldn't have seen the front lines. _

_He was still so young… Only nineteen years old; one of the youngest in his class. 'A good shot' they had called him, though he was still assigned as a foot soldier. Decent, though not as skilled as the fabled 'Hawk's Eye,' who had also been pulled from James's class for her prowess. _

_He wanted his younger, innocent brother back. Not the cold-blooded murderer they were shaping him up to be. Though his time there was short, he could see the life draining from his brother's eyes, threatening to vanish any time now. He couldn't have that…_

_Upon making up his mind, Don jumped to his feet and wrapped his arm around his brother's neck, putting him in a headlock. With his balled up fist, he roughly tussled James's hair. With a half-yelp and half-laugh, James leapt to his feet and began trying to pry his brother's arm off of him, all the while demanding that he stop._

"_What's that," Don called out innocently. "I can't hear you over the sound of me winning!"_

"_Cut it out," James pouted as he fought his older brother. "Why are you even-"_

"_Hey!"_

_Don instantly released his brother at the sound of a third-party voice. The two men straightened up and turned toward the voice, noticing that one of the passing soldiers had stopped in their tracks upon seeing them. _

_Stepping closer, the soldier pulled their hood down, revealing brown eyes and short blonde hair. Eyeing Don critically, she advanced toward the pair and stopped just feet from them, awaiting an explanation. _

_James immediately stepped toward her and raised his hands in an effort to convey innocence. "It's alright, Private Hawkeye," he explained, "We're just messing around." Clapping a hand on his older brother's shoulder, he said, "This is my older brother, Don."_

_Almost instantly Don was able to recognize her. Though he hadn't seen her in person, he knew enough about her appearance to know that this was the infamous 'Hawk's Eye.' That coupled with his younger brother's exchange with her only proved it. Reaching out and offering his hand, he smiled and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hawk's Eye."_

_Her eyes flashed dangerously upon hearing the title she had been given. Rather than accepting his hand, she raised hers in a brisk salute and muttered, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Addison."_

"_Oh," James quipped as she lowered her salute, "His surname is different than mine. Two different fathers," he explained._

_Bowing slightly but still keeping her eyes warily on him, she mumbled, "My apologies, Lieutenant…?"_

"_Rodin," Don answered._

"_Right," she said as she saluted once more, her eyes wandering over to James. "It was a pleasure, Lieutenant Rodin."_

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his younger brother flash her a smile of reassurance. Waving her off, Don assuredly said, "It was, Private."_

_Without another word she turned and made her way back to the line of soldiers that were milling toward the encampment, disappearing within their ranks. After watching the spot he had last seen her for a few moments, Don muttered, "Well she was a ray of sunshine, wasn't she?"_

"_Ah, she means well," James defended. "She was mostly quiet and reserved at the academy, but she definitely looked out for anyone that needed it."_

_Don eyed his brother mischievously. "So… Is that the kind of girl you want?"_

_James shook his head confidently. "She's beautiful and nice, but she's not," he paused for a moment as a blush crossed his cheeks, "… She's not my type."_

_Don chuckled lightly. "Your type has brown hair and her name starts with 'L,' right?" For that he received a shove, only causing him to laugh harder._

* * *

_After a grueling and exhausting day, Don slowly eased himself back into the Amestrian encampment he was assigned to, wearily throwing himself down on the nearest cot he could find._

_Twenty-three lives he was forced to take today. Men, women, and even children…_

_He believed he should have felt something. Sorrow… Anger? Resent? Disgust?_

_And yet, he felt nothing. It was as if his humanity were stripped from him, leaving behind a shell that simply followed every order given to him. _

_Normally the thought of quitting would cross his mind, but he knew that a lowly Lieutenant like himself would be unwelcome both in the ranks of the military and the general public if he left now. Attempting to leave the battlefield now would almost definitely lead to demotion and possible expulsion. From what he had heard, Major Armstrong had been dragged off the field after refusing to fight and was promptly whisked back to Central._

_The differences between them, however, were that he was a State Alchemist, while Don was merely one dispensable pawn out of thousands. If he even thought about throwing down his gun he would be executed or dishonorably discharged._

_From what he had heard, finding a job outside of the military was nearly impossible, especially after the public discovered what was really going on in Ishval. They were beginning to catch on, realizing that there was no rebellion. There was no insurgency among the Ishvalans. _

_What they were realizing was that this was a complete and total bloodbath. _

_They were all pawns in this and there was no way out…_

_By this point he was beyond the point of wanting to beg and plead to go home now that James was there. His younger brother was fresher than he, more energetic and nimble being fresh from the academy. He would be out on the lines as long as possible, until they wrung the very last bit of life from him…_

_But if he could prevent that, then Don would do whatever it took to ensure that the light stayed in his younger brother's eyes. He himself was too far gone to save. So for now he would focus on protecting James. _

_He knew that the war was quickly coming to end. They were beginning to run out of Ishvalans to slaughter… And since that was the case, he knew that of the two of them, James would be able to make a life for himself. He would at least be able to live a life that he deserved…_

_With a rugged sigh, Don slowly sat up on the cot and ran his fingers through his dusty, dirty hair. That was enough rest. Right now he needed to focus on finding his younger brother. _

_After getting to his feet, he peered out of the tent he was currently occupying and looked around. From what he could tell there were fewer soldiers there than normal, meaning that many of them were still out in the field. _

_With that he picked up his gun and seated himself on the edge of the camp, keeping his eyes focused on the Ishvalan town they currently sieged. _

_For hours he waited, the sounds of gunfire becoming more infrequent as time dragged on. He watched as countless units returned 'home' from a hard day's work. _

_By now it was sunset and his brother was nowhere to be seen. And with each passing moment he grew more and more anxious, watching the hundreds of faces that passed. _

_This wasn't right. They should have been back hours ago. _

_Rising to his feet, he jogged over to one of the last soldiers to enter the camp and asked, "Have you heard from Unit 343?"_

_The unknown soldier nodded and thrust his thumb over his shoulder. "Last I saw they were in sector C-4, finishing off the last of the scum." Without a second thought or comment, the soldier passed him by, making his way toward the center of the camp._

_Whirling around to face the small Ishvalan town, Don heard a short series of gunfire. As he took a step toward it, considering going, a massive explosion erupted from one of the buildings, rocking the ground beneath his feet. Stumbling back, he managed to catch the remnants of a mushroom cloud that had formed above it._

_That was it. Without thinking a second longer, he grabbed his gun and ran toward the town… And toward the explosion._

* * *

_By the time he had reached the center of the sector, the entire area had been filled with smoke. Pulling his collar over his nose and mouth, Don rushed into the mist, despite the screams and smells of charred flesh that pummeled his senses. _

_He continued running until the sounds of gunfire forced him to stop. _That way…

_Whirling around, he plunged into the darkness and toward the gunfire until he heard a series of commands being shouted. He recognized that voice…_

_He was getting closer now. So close that he could see them through the fog that had settled. So close that he could make out his brother's form rushing into the building ahead of him. Racing forward, he had nearly made it to the structure before a bright light flashed in front of him, followed moments later by a blast of heat that launched him back and away from the building._

* * *

_His ears were ringing…_

_Taking a deep breath, Don filled his lungs with the soot-filled air that surrounded him, forcing him to gag and choke on the particles. He could barely breathe… Where was-_

_His eyes snapped open, the world around him spinning uncontrollably. _

_James… His brother!_

_Fighting through the nausea and disorientation, he pushed himself onto his elbows and knees. When his world stopped spinning long enough to look up, he was faced with a raging inferno…_

_An inferno that was devouring the building… and the only family he had left._

* * *

**A/N: **_Sorry for all the OC action here, but it's vital to the story. Next time we will see our beloved characters again, where a bold move will be made… _

_A few quick things. First, there are only 3 chapters left here and 4 left for my other story, _Humanity _(which I am horribly stuck on right now, so there's that)_. _That being said, I do have another project I am working on titled _**Flame and Steel**_. I won't give too many details yet, but it's related to this story._

_So besides that I've got nothing! If anyone has any ideas/prompts/etc. for another story, I'd love to hear them. I have a one-shot planned that is modeled after a headcanon by __**Stardiouses**__, but after that that is it. I'd love to try my hand at more focused Royai, but I love Parental!RoyEd too (so you see my struggles…). I'll be honest: I'm not that creative XD_

_And now… presenting my list of Rodin hints/facts:_

_Ch. 3: Quick to change personality from fun-loving to serious; "flick of a switch."  
__Ch. 13: Edward uncovered that Rodin was in an "interrogation unit" in Ishval.  
__Someone had to get Vansin into the hospital.  
__Ch. 16: He didn't fight Roy that much when trying to get the file back.  
__Ch. 23: The bad guys referred to themselves as "brothers." Rodin mentions his "brother."  
__Ch. 26: Rodin noted that Riza and Roy resembled each other in their determination (though he was quick to correct himself by saying he "heard it."). He was actually referring to her determination to live.  
__Ch. 26: He was the "leader" that called. He called off the attack early because he knew how badly automail surgery hurt… So he waited for Riza to get it.  
__He's just an overall poser. I did say there was a reason he acted like Hughes… Which will be revealed next chapter._

_**I was slow on replying to reviews**... So I'm doing that tonight and tomorrow! Three exams this week and a few big events at university had be bogged down a bit. But thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I can't believe I'm 21 reviews shy of 200 O_O;; I'm flattered!_


	32. Shatter Point

_**It burns…**_

* * *

"_Hey…" Don murmured softly as he crept into the poorly lit room, focusing immediately on the form lying on the bed in its center._

_The form responded by moving their eyes in his direction, though he knew he could not see._

_Taking the slight movement as a sign to advance further, Don slowly made his way around the bed and knelt down next to the person._

_The form lying before him was virtually unrecognizable, the patches of skin on his face a mosaic, with different colors and hues of flesh sprinkled about. And where there should have been a nose and ears, there were instead only holes, the remnants of those structures gone in the fire that scarred him._

_Reaching into his pocket, Don produced a small vial of liquid. Taking the top off, he leaned over the man and began dispensing a few droplets of the solution his brother's eyes._

_The man in the bed, James, wheezed contently as the skin around his eyes twitched, simulating the sensation of blinking._

"_Sorry it took so long," Don apologized as he reached up and wiped the excess fluid that had run down his brother's cheek. "Without having Mary here, it's been a bit rough."_

_He hadn't wanted to tell his brother that the reason his caretaker was no longer there was because he had fired her weeks ago. Money was too tight and he could no longer afford to pay her for her services. Then again, he could no longer afford _anything _really…_

_Originally the military paid for all of his brother's medical expenses, claiming that what had happened to him had been a mistake, though they originally did not say how or why. After a while, however, they seemed to grow more and more concerned about his brother's condition, to the point of demanding that he be handed over to them for proper care. They then went too far and cut them off from all finances that were meant for them, backing them into a corner._

_So Don did what he believed was the best thing… He reported that his brother died a few weeks later, even going so far as to produce ashes and a certificate of death in order to stop their constant pestering about him.*_

_After that, he simply tried to make ends meet. He hired a private caregiver to care for James while he worked overtime nearly every week. While he lacked spending more time with his brother, he made up for it by quickly rising in the ranks, making a name for himself at Western Command._

_But even that too had a cost…_

_When he was granted access to records from Ishval, Don discovered the real cause of the "accident" that had nearly killed his brother. And that reason was Roy Mustang._

_According to the reports he was spoon fed, the blast was the result of weapons that had been taken by Ishvalan militants that were hell-bent on 'returning the favor.' What the official reports claimed, however, completely contradicted what he had been told._

_Instead, they detailed how the blast was a result of 'alchemic power'; namely, flame alchemy._

_This discovery rocked Don's world. Because while he was struggling to make ends meet and take care of his younger brother, the now-General was quickly rising in the ranks, having become both the "Hero of Ishval" and a hero on the fateful "Promised Day."_

_They had been deceived… And the monster that burned his brother was still alive and thriving. He was still-_

_A loud moan pulled Don from his thoughts, causing him to look down at his brother. "Sorry," he murmured as he reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a syringe and a small vial of pain medication. As he drew up some of the liquid into the syringe, he said, "You know… I found someone that could help me punish the person that put you here."_

_He heard a small grunt originating from his brother, but he did not respond. Don knew that his younger brother was probably pleading for him to reconsider what he was thinking to do. But he could not heed that warning. He had to do this. He had to do to that monster what he had done to his brother._

_Roy Mustang took his brother's life… And now it was his time to take something that was precious to him._

_He drew out nearly triple the normal dosing required for his brother. This was a journey he would have to take alone._

_Looking down gloomily at his younger brother, he said, "I'm sorry, Jim… But my funds are just about dried up. If I don't do this now, then I might not get another chance to do this."_

_His brother's eyes bored into his own, silently begging for him to reassess what he was thinking._

_It was too late for that. Roy Mustang was there, in Ishval, now. Roy Mustang… and Riza Hawkeye. The woman whose name always followed the General's. The woman, who, he was confident, was General Mustang's weak spot… His pressure point._

_Reaching over and gently grasping his brother's deformed and mutilated arm, Don set it across his lap and felt for his brother's vein. When he located it, he inserted the tip of the needle, but withheld from pushing the plunger until he looked into his brother's eyes._

_If James had the capacity to scream, he was sure that he would be. His steel-blue eyes were widened and bulging from his head. He was moaning and silently screaming… But there was no other option._

"_I'm doing this for you," Don finally murmured as he pushed down on the plunger, inserting the needle's contents into his vein. "I can't be here for you anymore… So I'm setting you free."_

_It was only a matter of moments before his brother's labored breathing was silenced, the quiet screaming fading with it._

_Don sat there for what seemed like hours, staring into the cold and dead eyes of his younger brother._

_It was for the best, because soon he would finally snuff out the flame of the person that killed his brother._

* * *

_**It burns…**_

* * *

"Have you ever heard of James Addison," Rodin asked as he threateningly took a step toward Roy, staring down the bridge of his nose at him.

Roy searched his memory bank, but the name honestly did not ring a bell. Staring back at the deranged Lieutenant Colonel, he searched his face for some sort of hint. Should he have known it? Was this all a test? The longer he watched Rodin's face, the more frustrated he grew. He didn't know!

Finally he relented and muttered, "… I haven't."

"I figured as much," Rodin growled with disgust as he narrowed his eyes at the General. "He was among the Amestrian soldiers you brutally murdered while in Ishval. Do you not remember their screams… Or have they blended in with the cries of the Ishvalans you killed as well?"

Roy felt the blood drain from his face as he stammered, "W-what…?"

"You heard me," Rodin snapped. "You have far too much blood on your hands to walk free, Mustang. So now I'm going to allow you to pay for-" He was cut off by a gasp behind him. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes fell on Riza and narrowed with contempt.

"You know," he said with a vicious grin as he turned back to Roy, "The plan was originally to give her back to you once we were done with her… in pieces, of course." Seeing the apparent disgust and disbelief on Roy's face, he added, "But then I got the call that I did, in fact, get the position to help you with the case. What luck, right?!"

"Because you got the position… with me," Roy echoed back numbly.

"That's right," Rodin exclaimed. "That's the only reason she's here today."

Stunned by this revelation, Roy could only muster up a weak, "Why?"

"Why," Rodin echoed back with a small laugh. "Because," he growled as he stepped forward and took hold of Roy's shirt, tugging him up so that their noses were practically touching, "I wanted to see the light drain from your eyes the same way my brother's did from his. Working with you was like having a front row seat to the show."

"Brother," Roy asked weakly as the last of the pieces fell into place.

"That's right," Rodin replied with a wicked grin. "You are the one that condemned my brother to a life he did should not have had to live. It was only fitting that you too be condemned.

"Oh, how it was fun watching the hope in your eyes vanish as the months dragged on, seeing the light slowly begin to fade when you began to realize that she wasn't coming back. My fondest memories are of when I would call and tell you that there were no leads. And oh, the sound of dejection in your voice was absolutely delightful," he purred. "So much so, that I almost didn't need to make so many trips out to meet with you… Almost."

Turning to look over his shoulder, he nodded toward Riza, who was still leaning against the fireplace's legs. Roy could see the beads of sweat running down her face, her bangs plastered to her forehead, as she took rapid and shallow breaths. Behind her the fire was still as alive as ever, throwing its heat directly onto her… and onto the side with her automail arm. With her condition he knew that she was unable to move; so now she was trapped there, the fire threatening to warm her to the point of heat stroke.

Focusing on her now, Rodin chuckled, "Do you remember me, _Lieutenant_?"

She glared up at him for a few moments before blinking slowly and languidly shaking her head side to side.

Rodin scoffed as he reached into his pocket and produced a knife. Holding it up for her to see, he again asked, "Do you remember me now?"

Her eyes slowly widened as her right hand moved to her left side, clutching at the remnants of the wound they had found her with.

* * *

_**It burns.**_

* * *

"Ahh, so you _do _remember me then," Rodin said with a wolfish grin. "Good. Because I know that you weren't in the right state of mind when we met."

When the Lieutenant Colonel took a step toward her, Roy tried to draw the man's attention away from her by shouting, "Why?! Why, after all these years, is it now?"

Without looking at Roy, Rodin muttered, "Because he's gone now…" After taking a few steps toward Riza, who remained firmly where she was against the brick of the fireplace, he stopped and reconsidered. Whirling around, he addressed the mountainous man behind Roy and said, "Brother Giordani; the Lieutenant over there is looking awfully warm. Could you please give her a hand and remove the metal that is plaguing her body right now? Perhaps you could start with her shoulder…"

* * *

_**It burns.**_

* * *

The massive man grunted in reply and stepped around Roy, making his way toward the defenseless Riza. When he had taken a few steps toward her, setting himself up in the middle of the room, Edward yelled, "So you're resorting to murder?"

The behemoth stopped at the noise and turned toward Edward. Roy too stared at the boy, seeing that blazing golden eyes were locked on Rodin.

"So you're resorting to murder," Edward hissed again as he narrowed his eyes. "What about your children? What will they do when they find out their father is a cold-blooded killer?"

Rodin chuckled as he dug his hand into his pocket, producing the pictures of his two children that he always carried around. "You mean these two brats?" Grabbing the ends of both pictures between his hands, he tore them down the middle and promptly crumpled them up, dropping the paper ball onto the floor. "Those pictures were just two of many that I found in a dead soldier's trunk in Ishval." Looking back at Roy, he smirked. "In all honestly, I fabricated those kids so that I could play the role of a loving father. You tend to befriend those types, don't know, Roy?"

"Bastard," Edward hissed. "How dare you play with people's emotions that way."

Rodin let out a small laugh. "It was enough, though, wasn't it Edward? You can't honestly say you didn't once compare me to Maes Hughes, right?" When Edward scoffed, he smirked and added, "Regardless, I could see the doubt in your eyes as time wore on." Turned back to Roy he said, "You have a smart subordinate here, you know. I was surprised by his dedication in this case. He had gotten so close that I had to be sure his progress faltered."

"I'm not surprised," Edward said bluntly, returning Rodin's attention back to him. "So you were the one that sent that goon to take my notes?"

"Who else would," Rodin replied with a mocking tone. "And, of course, the one that sent Nikolas Vansin to eliminate the lieutenant, which again you interfered with."

"And I would again, too," Edward stated bluntly.

"Of course you would," Rodin responded dryly. "And that's why you'll be next, because don't think I didn't take Vansin's words to heart regarding your wellbeing." With that he nodded toward Riza and muttered, "Take care of her."

* * *

_**It burns!**_

* * *

"Wait," Edward yelled, again stopping the massive man in his tracks. Having his full attention, he said, "Why wait when you can do it now?"

Surprised by Edward's 'eagerness,' Rodin threw his head back and laughed jovially. Once he had finished, he eyed him curiously and said, "Do you have a death wish, boy?"

"Of course not," Edward replied sharply. "I'm just picking and prodding at the faults in your plan. Figured you'd save Hawkeye for last since you seem eager to watch Mustang suffer."

The grin on Rodin's face quickly vanished. "Don't tell me what to do, you impudent brat," Rodin hissed.

Edward shrugged nonchalantly and smirked. He needed to keep them busy, focused on him… Turning his attention back to the behemoth, he scoffed and said, "How about a rematch? We never did finish our little encounter from before."

Giordani scowled and took a step toward Edward, but was stopped when Rodin snarled, "Focus on your target, idiot." With a mild grunt, the giant turned back to Hawkeye and began reaching for her, eliciting a yell from both Mustang and Al.

He needed his attention again. It wasn't time yet…

Just as Giordani's arm extended toward Hawkeye, Edward yelled, "Hey, you ugly bastard! I thought you'd want a rematch. Right here, right now!" He continued throwing insult after insult at the behemoth, his voice growing louder with every word. If this didn't work, then maybe someone would hear him…

He had the giant's attention now. Good…

"Come on! Fight me," Edward roared as he rocked the chair side to side, as if attempting to loosen the ropes that bound him.

At last Rodin relented as he blared, "Shut him up," commanding the giant to silence him once and for all.

Giordani stomped over to him and loomed above Edward, his Cheshire grin curling further upward the longer he stood there. Edward continued taunting him, throwing insult upon insult at him until the man's massive hand shot out from his side, wrapping around his neck.

All at once a massive force closed itself upon Edward's throat, the pressure so great that it instantly cut off his air supply. Quickly realizing the gravity of the situation, Edward's body instinctively began to gulp for air. He hadn't expected this!

Much to his horror, the man lifted his arm, taking Edward with it, suspending him in the air as he choked and gasped. The force on his neck intensified, and Edward instantly felt the rings of his trachea bend and begin to give, flattening out as his entire airway was cut off.

It was at that moment, as the darkness began to take over and a heavy fog set in on his mind, that he realized his mistake.

He had acted too soon...

* * *

She couldn't take it any longer.

That man's words.

The thought of everyone dying by their hands.

The pain of it all.

It burned with what she believed was the equivalent of the intensity of a thousand suns. She could feel it swelling, busting open, oozing…

**It burned…**

Edward's feet stopped twitching and his entire body grew flaccid and limp. She could not wait any longer. It was time now. This would be the only time; her only chance.

Using what remained of her strength; Riza pushed herself to her feet and charged at the behemoth. Before he could react, she had caught her automail arm in her gloved hand and thrust it forward, slamming the molten-hot steel palm into his face.

The scarred man roared in agony as the searing hot steel began to burn and char his flesh, but she did not relent, locking her knees, despite the fact that they began to quiver and quake.

It was coming. That much was inevitable. But as long as she used this moment, that was all that mattered.

The last thing she heard were the sounds of simmering flesh and something heavy hitting the floor, before the darkness she had expected once again took over and consumed her senses.

This time, however, she welcomed it.


	33. Steel

All at once the pressure on Edward's neck ceased to exist, and he was falling, falling, hurtling toward the ground. When the chair made contact first, the legs and back snapped and broke in half, cushioning his fall slightly as his head and body followed, freeing his hands from their restraints.

Feeling a crashing blow to the back of his skull, he gasped, refilling his lungs with precious and vital air. Wheezing, coughing, gagging, he tried desperately to make sense of what was happening, what was going on. He had been taunting Rodin and his goon, trying to remove their attention away from-

Hawkeye!

The realization hit him with the same amount of force that the floor did, bringing with it the sight and sounds of everything occurring around him.

A cry of anguish was the first to reach his ears, taking a few moments to process in his throbbing head. Through his blurred vision he was able to make out the form of the behemoth as he wailed and clawed at his face with one hand, the other arm swinging around violently.

Another form was there, on her feet and standing before him, blonde hair being the dead giveaway to who it was.

And between them a brilliant, glowing orange connection.

His thoughts immediately turned to alchemy, but she didn't know any. A beat later, however, he recognized it, remembering that it was what he had seen before.

Steel. Molten hot steel.

Without another thought he scrambled up to his feet, just as another voice reached his ears. As he bolted toward the fire place, he turned toward Mustang, who had called out just moments before. _Watch out…_

Seconds later a bullet whizzed past him. As he instinctively ducked, he watched as Rodin aimed again. But just as Edward began to change direction, Mustang lunged forward, slamming into Rodin's side, forcing the crazed Lieutenant Colonel onto the ground.

Taking hold of this moment, Edward leapt forward and snatched the fireplace's poking stick from its cradle. Whirling around, he raced toward Hawkeye and the massive man, who had continued to swing wildly as his the skin on his face continued to crackle and snap beneath the hot steel.

Raising the metal pole above his head, Edward grabbed the collar of Hawkeye's shirt and pulled it just as he brought it down, cutting through the molten steel as if it were butter. But as he began to turn his body away and toward her, he caught a glimpse of the behemoth's fist flying toward them with one final swing.

Simply reacting, Edward instantaneously drew her into him, wrapping his arms around her just as the man's fist connected with his back, sending them across the room by the sheer force. Gripping her tighter as they tumbled and rolled, he tried desperately to map out his next course of action. He' had to get the gun and-

Another bullet whizzed past them just as they came to a stop. Crouching low over her body, Edward's head snapped up as he saw Rodin's wild eyes on them, the Lieutenant Colonel on his belly and still on the floor.

A third pull of the trigger sent a bullet dangerously close to Edward's head, forcing him to forgo planning in favor of acting. With one swift movement, he scooped Hawkeye into his arms and leapt to his feet, dodging another bullet that would have otherwise torn through her legs.

Turning and rushing around the corner, Edward's mind began to race as he sprinted toward the front door. He needed to get outside. Surely someone would see them and-

He skidded to a stop as he drew closer to it, seeing that a multitude of wooden boards had been secured across it. While Mustang had been out, Edward saw that the mountain of a man had vanished, and while he heard banging and ruckus coming from the front of the house, he had been unaware of what the man had been doing. Now he knew. They had blocked them in.

Changing his route, Edward made a beeline toward the back of the house. He would try the back door, or at the very least loop around and get back to Mustang and Al in order to free them from their bindings. At the very least, it seemed to him that his taunting paid off. If he could keep Rodin's focus on him as he had been, then he would surely follow after Edward and leave Mustang and Al alone; because luckily, he seemed far too hotheaded to allow him to escape.

From there it would be a matter of disarming and overtaking the two men.

Just as he had, surprisingly, hoped, he heard the distant clatter of the gun's magazine hitting the floor as Rodin reloaded the weapon, following by a heavy footfall as he pursued them.

Unfortunately, Edward's assumption had held true as he closed in on the back door. Just like the front, it too was boarded shut.

Taking this as a sign to loop around, he was about to head through the kitchen when Rodin reappeared and lifted his weapon. Ducking back around the corner, Edward barely missed the bullet that implanted itself in the wall he was stationed behind.

Rodin could camp out there all day if he wanted to, simply by maneuvering himself between Edward and Hawkeye, and Roy and Al unless he made a different move. From here, it seemed, there was only one other option: Up.

Taking on the staircase in leaps and bounds, Edward flew up the steps and turned down the hallway that led to the bedrooms and washroom. Freeing one of the hands that gripped Hawkeye close to him, he raced down the hallway and began slamming the doors shut as he sped past. At the very least he was going to make this game of hide and seek as difficult as possible.

After slamming them shut, they took refuge in the second bedroom on the right side of the hallway. Immediately rushing to the bed, Edward reached for the phone that sat on the nightstand next to it. However, when he raised it to his ear, he was met with a solidity and soundlessness that signaled only one thing: The line was cut.

Swearing to himself, he slammed it down and was about to readjust his grip on Hawkeye and leave when he heard a solitary pair of footsteps between the yowls of pain below them, slowly stalking toward the staircase. As a pool of alarm flooded his gut, he moved Hawkeye and ducked into the room's closet. But just as he was about to set her down, her eyes widened as she began to hyperventilate and writhe.

* * *

After Riza was once again thrown into darkness, she lost all sense of what was going on. All she knew was that she was suddenly hurled to the ground, wrapped within someone that seemed to be protecting her; someone that, she knew, was not Roy.

Once she had been slammed to the ground, however, the details grew fuzzy as the person's movements quickly became rough and jerking, exacerbating the roaring pain that enveloped her left shoulder; so much so that she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

But after she had been jolted around, for a brief moment the movement stopped as the person stooped low, suggesting that the space they had entered was small… Very small…

Instantly the memories of being trapped in that confined, concrete space barraged her mind, flooding it with that same hopelessness and panic she felt not too long ago.

All rational thoughts vanished as an overwhelming sense of dread filled her and consumed her. She was back; back in that small, confined space.

Back to the endless suffering.

Back to a life where Roy was no longer there.

She began to panic and writhe, fruitlessly trying to battle away from the one that had taken her. Almost instantly his hand flew up and roughly covered her mouth, confirming her deepest fears.

They had taken her. They had taken her and there was no telling who was left alive, or how long she would remain so.

* * *

Without thinking Edward clapped his hand over Hawkeye's mouth, afraid that she would alert the owner of the footsteps that were slowly ascending the stairs. She responded by widening her eyes and flailing, trying to get away from him.

Instantly realizing what this meant, he lowered her down and grabbed her hand mid-thrash. Guiding it up to the braid that had cascaded down his shoulder, he placed her hand against it and prayed she understood.

When she felt it, she drew her hand back as her eyes widened, a small "Edward" escaping from beneath the hand that was still placed over her mouth. Grabbing her hand again, he placed it atop his head and nodded to confirm it. Just as she was about to say something else, he pulled his hand away from her mouth and pressed his index finger against her lips. _Quiet._

She obeyed, her gasps becoming quieter just as the footsteps reached the top of the staircase.

After a few moments of silence, a low and eerie voice purred, "Edward…"

Edward drew in and held his breath as the footsteps stopped just down the hallway from them. He heard a door open, telling him that Rodin took the bait and had opened the door obliquely from the room they were in… that was right in front of the staircase.

"I thought you wanted a fight," Rodin mused loudly. "What happened to that? You were so gung-ho about it. What changed? Did my gun scare you?"

He heard a pause, as if Rodin was expecting him to answer. When he didn't, a shot rang out, causing him to jump, with causatively made Hawkeye flinch and press her shoulder into him.

Throughout the entire ordeal he could feel the blazing hot steel pressing into his chest, burning a hole in the fabric of his shirt. Despite it being cooler, the metal was still far from humanly tolerable. Keeping his eyes focused up and on the closet door and straining to listen, Edward's hands slowly moved to her shoulder. Running them down to where the metal casing and remnant of the steel arm met, he quickly dug his fingers into the fissure between them and pried it open, resulting in a pained gasp from her. At the same time the footsteps paused, as if Rodin had stopped to listen.

Despite the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest, threatening to burst from it at any moment, Edward silently commanded himself to keep calm. Reaching up, he again pressed his index finger against her lips. _Quiet…_

Trembling, weakly panting, she leaned back against the wall and mouthed "I'm sorry," trying desperately to keep her wits about her.

After a few moments of straining to listen again, he heard Rodin take a few steps into the room that he had ventured to first. So he hadn't heard her…

A beat later a wretched, horrible scent filled his nose. Without looking, he knew.

He hadn't been sure how long her arm had been in the fire, but he knew that it was definitely long enough… Long enough to produce the smell of burning flesh. Willing himself to look down, his suspicions were confirmed.

With what little light escaped into the closet from beneath the door, he could make out its swollen and split appearance. From what he could tell, the skin had grown considerably darker… And the lack of excruciating pain meant one thing: Her nerve endings were fried. She couldn't feel it. Her shoulder, he was sure, was a completely different story…

He heard a door slam. Rodin was done searching the first room. Edward listened to the steps as they made their way over to the room across from it; the room next to theirs. He had hoped that Rodin would have checked the room at the end of the hallway first, seeing that it was the furthest from him… and the gun.

"When I find you," Rodin called out, "I'm going to make you watch as your little brother is skinned alive!"

Feeling a wave of nausea fill his gut at the thought, Edward knew that the man wasn't lying.

It wouldn't be long before he checked this room and found them. He needed to act. Because when, _not_ _if_, they got out of there, she would need immediate medical attention. Unfortunately, burns continued to burn well after they were inflicted…

"You could have avoided this, you know," Rodin exclaimed. "If you had just gone home like you were supposed to; you, Alphonse, and dear, sweet Winry would all be safe. But now that you've dragged them into this mess, there's nothing left but to eliminate them as well."

Turning his attention to Hawkeye, he pressed lightly on her shoulders, silently conveying the message to stay.

Her eyes grew wide in realization at what this meant. She hesitated for a moment and opened her mouth as if to speak, but abruptly shut it.

He knew that she knew there was nothing she could do. He was confident she figured out what was going on, and understood enough to know that this was the only option. They would be found eventually. They were sitting ducks here.

Her hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve as he moved to stand, pulling him out of the sea of thoughts that were swirling around in his mind. Looking up to the level where his face was, she murmured, "Please, Edward, be safe…"

Edward responded by crouching down and squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but whatever it was it would be alright… He just had to keep telling himself that.

Getting to his feet, he cautiously opened the door to the closet and stepped out, straining to listen as he turned toward the door. There, he froze.

Standing in the doorway, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, was the deranged Lieutenant Colonel himself.

* * *

Moments after Rodin had disappeared around the corner in pursuit of Edward, Roy began feverishly wriggling his arms in an attempt to free them from their position behind the chair, trying his best to ignore the pained yells that continued to spew from Giordani's mouth as he clawed at the blistering skin on his face.

When he had slipped them over the top of the overturned chair, he continued to work at the rope, twisting and turning his wrists, slackening it with each turn. After a considerable amount of effort and precious time, he felt it loosen enough to slip his wrists out.

He watched as the giant slowly got to his feet and staggered, whimpering as he did so. When he turned around, Roy could see a large, hand-shaped patch of skin that covered his nose, eyes and lips, a mixture of deep reds, yellows, and black.

But his eyes… His eyes had completely collapsed in on themselves, a trail of blood originating from them running down his cheeks.

He was blinded…

Taking this opportunity, he reached down and fumbled with the ropes that bound his legs to the chair, grasping at and frantically pulling at them. He needed to hurry… He needed to-!

A gunshot interrupted his thoughts, throwing his mind into a whirlwind of chaos until he heard Rodin again yell, his words telling Roy that he had not encountered them yet.

When the ropes on his legs had slackened, he kicked them off and scrambled to his feet. Clapping his hands on the floor, the wooden floorboards creaked and moaned, shooting up and wrapping themselves around Giordani. Before the man could so much as scream, Roy darted forward and stuffed the ropes into the man's mouth, gagging him.

Ignoring the muffled screams of rage the man emitted, Roy flew over to Alphonse and began to work at the ropes that tied back his arms and legs.

"General," Alphonse murmured as his hands became freed, "We have to-"

"No," Roy stated, cutting the young alchemist off, "_You_ need to go for help. _I _will take care of Rodin."

"But-"

"Alphonse," Roy hissed, "I know you want to help your brother, but your body still is not as strong as it should be. Right now what you can do is alert someone… Please."

As the ropes fell away from his legs, Alphonse unsteadily got to his feet. Taking this as a sign of cooperation, Roy walked over to the wall and clapped his hands again, pressing them against it. When the wall had shifted and contorted, forming a hole large enough to squeeze through, he quietly commanded, "Go. Now!"

After casting the man a worried stare, Alphonse begrudgingly nodded, then wedged himself through and outside.

Casting one last glare toward his restrained captive, Roy immediately fled from the room and headed toward the staircase. But as he ascended the steps, he heard another shot ring out.

* * *

Rodin chuckled darkly as he pointed his gun at Edward's chest. "Found you," he purred.

After staggering back, reaching up and grasping his bloodied shoulder, Edward winced. Had he not moved when he had, it almost certainly would have made its mark in his heart. When Rodin laughed again, Edward growled and narrowed his eyes

Raising a brow, Rodin scoffed. "Did you honestly think you were going to somehow get out, Edward," he taunted. "Your lifelines are cut off. You are backed into a corner. And you are on the receiving end of this," he added as he flicked his wrist and the gun in his hand.

"You know, feeding off of the resent and disdain Mustang felt for you was almost just as good as watching him agonize over his precious Lieutenant. And you made it even more interesting by coming back despite it all," he noted harshly. "So before I end this, what made you do it? I'm dying to know… Was it guilt? Regret?-"

"Loyalty."

Angling his body slightly toward the dark-haired man that entered the room, Rodin's hand flew to his waistline, producing another gun which he pointed at Mustang.

Seemingly unfazed by this, the General took another step forward. "Determination."

"What are you blathering about," Rodin snapped.

"Edward," Roy explained calmly. "And compassion… Something you fail to possess," Mustang observed as he took another step toward Rodin.

Seeing this, the man raised his gun higher and pointed the barrel at Mustang's forehead. "Another step and I'll blow you both away," he snarled.

Just as Mustang was about to open his mouth to speak, a series of yells from below filled their ears. Edward watched as Rodin's eyes widened in realization. As the man turned his head desperately back and forth between them, the General said, "It's over, Rodin."

"This isn't over," the Lieutenant Colonel seethed as his composure slipped. "Not until you have suffered the way I have… The way my brother did!"

By now the voices had grown louder, the sounds of heavy boots clambering on the staircase as their reinforcements arrived.

"It's ov-"

"It. Is. Not!" Rodin screamed as he pulled the triggers on both guns.

Anticipating this, Edward's knees buckled and he fell to the side, watching as Mustang stumbled and fell backwards.

Moments later, a flurry of men in blue uniforms stormed the room and pointed their weapons at the Lieutenant Colonel.

Just as Edward hit the ground, he watched as Lieutenant Colonel Rodin defiantly raised the barrel of one of his weapons to his head, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

**A/N: **_Wow… One chapter left. It's a bit bittersweet. My first FMA fanfic will be done. I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride, though!_

_Anyways, onto _**Flame and Steel**. **FaS** _is going to be a bit like a continuation of the story… of sorts. Or rather, it will be a series of short stories or one-shots in chronological order that detail events after this story is complete and will answer questions you may have had about what happened either during this story or afterwards (I had a lot of ideas as I was writing this story that I wanted to run with). A lot of it will be Royai or Riza-centric (80%), detailing her recovery and adjustment to automail, but I have Parental!RoyEd and general Family! Stories planned (such as Roy and Ed investigating how much time Edward has after he used his life like a Philosopher's Stone) and their relationships as time goes on because of this. The first chapter, _"Safe and Sound," _will be published directly after I upload the final chapter._

_One thing I never did fit into this story was how Riza was kidnapped exactly (I never could quite fit it in and could not here; thanks for the reminder __**freebird2992!**__). I would like to include that in _FaS, _but if you're done after next chapter and don't want to read it, PM me and I will tell you what happened._

_Finally, thank you for all the favorites, follows, and reviews (And thank you for taking this journey with me!). See you for the final chapter._


	34. Come What May

The minutes following the final gunshot were a blur to Edward.

He remembers Havoc running over to him, obscuring his view of both Rodin and Mustang just as other uniformed men descended upon them. When the Lieutenant had begun instructing him to apply pressure to his shoulder, he remembers snapping at the man, demanding that he look after Hawkeye instead.

He remembers being handed a canteen of water by a faceless soldier, crouching down to her and reintroducing himself. When she understood, he carefully poured the water up and down her arm, cooling the metal and alleviating the pain.

Edward thinks he remembered Havoc scooping Hawkeye into his arms in order to rush her downstairs to an awaiting car. He's confident he remembers pressing his index and middle fingers to her lips, drawing them back, and pressing them back once again; simulating the motion of smoking in order to tell her who it was.

He remembers being escorted from the room beside Havoc and another soldier and seeing a mess of people surrounding the General, though he could not see Mustang himself. While he had tried to break free to rush over to him, the person that he was with redirected him out the door and away from Mustang.

There were small fits of panic when he didn't see Alphonse outside, but he was reassured over and over again that his little brother was safe. Apparently, they had received a call from a secretary that had talked to Mustang just hours before. When she didn't hear from him again, she used her best judgement and called his team and a few others to confirm his location and status. Since his team had been aware of his recent whereabouts, they immediately headed toward Knox's house, where they found Alphonse running from the it in a state of shock. He had already been whisked away by them by the time Edward had asked...

The very last thing that he remembers more clearly than the rest was Dr. Knox being escorted to another vehicle, looking a bit worse for wear, but all in one piece.

After that, the details were fuzzy. There had been constant questions, both on his end and theirs.

"_Were you hurt anywhere else?"_

"_Where's Alphonse?"_

"_Are you taking any medications?"_

"_Where are they?"_

With a loud huff Edward leaned back against the bed's headboard and attempted to cross his arms in dissatisfaction, though the sling his arm was in stopped him from doing so. Here he was in the hospital _again_. Being forced to remain there _again_.

All he wanted was news.

The nurses were decent enough to tell him that Alphonse was fine, coming out with mild dehydration and rope burns. However, for whatever their twisted reasoning was, he wasn't allowed to see his brother for another couple of hours. Something about acclimation into the hospital environment or awaiting a doctor's orders or whatever.

Now he was waiting on them. All he wanted was an okay regarding Hawkeye and-

"Hey." Looking up, Edward watched as Mustang walked into the room, his arm in a sling as well. When the older man saw Edward eyeing it, he smiled lightly and added, "We match."

Taking the playfulness with which the General said this to heart, Edward allowed himself to relax slightly, countering back with a snide, "Don't expect us to get matching tee shirts anytime soon."

"Not a chance," Mustang chuckled as he lowered himself into the seat beside Edward's bed. As soon as he sat down, however, the air changed slightly; a tone of seriousness hanging between them.

For a moment, neither spoke again, as if seeing each other caused the other to remember that day's events. They had, after all, been kidnapped, nearly murdered, and had watched a man kill himself…

Even though the General had seen many atrocities before, Edward knew that something like this had never happened to him. It was a lot to take in…

Still, he needed to know. He needed answers. After debating whether or not to advance with his question, Edward opted to follow through. Maybe the topic would soothe the General… "How's she doing," he asked slowly, eyeing the General with worry.

With a sigh, Mustang relaxed slightly and replied, "She's in surgery right now, though she should be finished soon." Averting his stare away from Edward, his eyes growing distant, he said, "They had to take the rest of it off. Luckily, the damage beneath the metal plating was mostly limited to first- and second-degree burns. With some ointment and care, it should heal with no problem."

"Oh. I see," Edward murmured in reply as he continued to watch the General, seeing him slip further and further into his thoughts. "Well, it's probably for the best," he said, prompting Mustang to look up and eye him confusedly.

Backtracking a bit, Edward explained, "When you think about it, replacing her shoulder will have less strain on her body in the long run." Still seeing confusion reflecting in the General's eyes, he continued, "I admire what Winry was thinking when she wanted to save the rest of her arm, but if she didn't wear the metal sleeve it would cause an immense amount of strain on it. Steel's heavy and the humerus isn't strong enough to support that much weight for a long time.

"Plus, it would be annoying as hell having to remove it to bathe, shower, or let her skin breathe." When he paused, he saw a small glimmer of hope in the General's eyes. Hoping to bring it full circle and reassure Mustang completely, he added, "She'll heal better this way. Though it might not seem like it now, it'll be better in the long run."

He watched as Mustang's lips twitched upward into a smile of thanks. "I suppose you're right," he admitted after thinking about it for a few moments. "Thank you."

Grinning back, Edward said, "Sure. No problem. And I'll be here to help you guys every step of the way." Seeing the General's expression turn to bewilderment again, he said, "I've been thinking about it and I'm not quite ready to give up my position in the military. If you don't mind, I'd like you to tear up those forms I brought along to Ishval."

Raising his brows in utter shock, Mustang asked, "Why would you do that? You were involved in this mess because of your involvement with the military. There's no guarantee that-"

"I know," Edward interrupted as he straightened his spine and sat up. "But after everything that happened, I realized something. I realized that I'm not ready to go separate ways yet. There's still so much left to accomplish… Still so much left to do.

"If I stay on, I can provide the military with alchemical research that can benefit the masses. Maybe I can travel one day, go West or something, to get you that information. I just think that-"

"You want to discover how much time you have left," Mustang observed, seeing through Edward's front.

Without hesitating, Edward nodded and turned his gaze away from Mustang. "While that's a big determining factor, there's more to it. All of this had me thinking about the Ishvalan War. About what you did in order to ensure that you remained on that ascent to the top. A lot of people were killed because of it." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the General flinch. "I don't agree with it, but I understand it.

"Right now you're helping to restore Ishval, and your ideas of using alchemy to benefit the masses are being left untouched." Turning his full focus back to Mustang, he said, "I can do that for you… To help you reach the top and change this nation for the better."

He paused for a moment, expecting Mustang to counter or say something. Instead, the General focused his gaze downward, his eyes clouding over; no doubt his mind was relaying scenes from the war and its connection with the day's events back to him, shoving his flaws and failures back into full view of his mind's eye.

But moments later, his eyes brightened. Looking back up at Edward, he nodded sharply and said, "I will consider your proposal, Edward. But only if you agree on two conditions."

This time it was Edward's turn to shoot the General a look of confusion. Seeing this, Mustang's lip twitched upward. "Condition one," he said as he held his pointer finger up, "I am to assist you whenever you deem appropriate in the research that revolves around discovering the consequences of using a single soul as a source of alchemical energy." Edward nodded sharply. He'd let the General help if that meant he would find the answer sooner rather than later, especially if that meant he would find something that would ease Winry and Alphonse's worry when he eventually told them.

"Condition two," he continued as he held up his middle finger together with his pointer finger, "I would appreciate it if I could have someone to call when it comes to automail."

"I could do that," Edward answered, "But Winry might be the better choice when it comes to maintenance and upkeep."

"Oh, trust me; I know," Mustang mused, most likely remembering all of the times he had to intervene when Winry hit Edward over the head because of his lack of maintenance. "But I would like someone to talk to that has been through it all before. And there's no one better to talk to than you," he said as he gestured to Edward.

Edward's face softened before he returned the General's offer with a smile. "I'll do it."

Mustang nodded and mirrored the young boy's smile. "It's a deal then."

Just as he was about to go on, a knock on the door interrupted him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Dr. Marcoh standing in the door way. "General," the doctor began as he beckoned the General forward, "She's awake."

When he turned back to Edward, the young blond saw a change in him: excitement, anxiousness, and a hint of eagerness.

"That's my cue then," Mustang said as he rose to his feet.

"Remember," Edward instructed, "This is better."

Mustang nodded. "I'll see you soon." And with that he was gone.

After watching the doorway for a moment, Edward was about to settle back on the pillows the nurses were kind enough to supply him when a rushed set of footsteps caught his attention. Sitting upright again, he watched as Winry rounded the corner, her expression a mixture of relief and anxiousness.

Closing the distance between them, she quickly strode up to his bed and stopped in front of him, but said nothing. For a few moments, the two of them watched each other; widened golden eyes staring back into reddened blue.

Then she sat down on the edge of his bed and wrapped an arm around him, taking care to avoid his injured shoulder. "Idiot," she mumbled as she buried her face into his shirt.

Wrapping his free arm around her, he drew her in closer and murmured, "Takes one to know one."

With a muffled scoff, she replied, "Yeah. Takes one to love one..."

* * *

When Riza awoke, her dulled and jumbled thoughts immediately turned to Roy.

Shortly after Edward had left her, the only things she perceived where thumps and thuds that vibrated the floorboards beneath her. She didn't know what was happening or what was going on. All she knew was that Edward had her, and Roy wasn't with him.

A thunderous resonation of footsteps followed shortly after, keeping her confusion level at its max. Then Edward returned and brought along someone else.

It had been Havoc.

She wanted to feel relief upon reuniting with the second Lieutenant, knowing now that, at the very least, she and Edward were safe. But she wouldn't allow herself to breathe easily yet.

She asked for Roy, wanted to know where he was. Why wasn't he coming? Why wasn't he speaking to her? Where was he? Where was he?!

Havoc, unfortunately, did not know how to respond with code. Instead, he did what he could to ease her worry by squeezing her gently or touching her hand as he transported her to, where she assumed, would be a hospital.

Honestly, she had forgotten about the pain in her shoulder. After Edward had poured water on it, the heat dissipated from the hot metal, leaving her with a shoulder that was now cool to the touch. Her arm, on the other hand, had been a completely different story.

She knew enough about burns to know that if there was no pain, the damage was deep, oftentimes too deep to save. Riza knew without reaching up to touch it that it was gone. But, however, she accepted that fact the moment she reached back into the flames. She would never regret it if it meant that they would make it out alive.

Now all she wanted was to have her worries erased, to have her fears subside. As long as she knew Alphonse and Roy were safe, then that's all that mattered. She would move forward and have countless surgeries again with her head held high.

Now she was simply waiting. Lying in bed on her back; staring into nothingness. It seemed that the pain was what brought this on, her mind not wanting to process what her body had endured by removing the sights and sounds that accompanied the pain, which appeared to be masked by who knows how many different drugs.

So now she was waiting…

Waiting…

Waiting for Roy…

Suddenly the dull _thud_ that was indicative of a single person walking across her room on the vinyl floors. She held her breath for a moment, wondering again if it was a nurse or a doctor coming again to fiddle with her IV line. When the steps stopped beside her bed, she looked upward to let them know that she was aware, that she wouldn't struggle or fight.

Instead, however, there was nothing.

"Hello," she asked, trying her best to keep her voice even and the slight bit of fear in her gut to a minimum.

Then, a hand reached beneath hers and lifted it; another drumming its fingers against the back.

_Tap taptap tap taptaptaptap taptap. _

"_I'm here."_

Throwing caution to the wind, this action she would later blame on the medications, she closed her fingers around his hand and gripped it tightly, pulling herself up and toward him.

Obviously caught by surprise, Roy clumsily reached out and managed to catch her before she tumbled off the edge of the bed. Before he could react further, she reached her arm up and around his neck and pulled herself closer to him, burying her face into his shoulder.

A few moments later, she felt one of his hands weave around her and draw her closer to him, resting against her back.

"_Easy now."_

"I'm sorry," she muttered into his shoulder. "I'm just… Glad you're alright."

"_I am_,_" _he assured her after hesitating.

That's when she noticed that his other arm was in front of him, between the two of them. Pulling away and dropping her hand to touch it, which he reluctantly allowed her to do, she felt a contraption made of cloth that was wound around his arm. Following it up and to his shoulder, she realized that it was a sling. Turning toward him, she murmured, "Are you really okay?"

A moment later his hand rested against. _"Yes. Just a shoulder wound."_

She froze and cast him a worried glance as he pulled her hand away from his shoulder.

"_I'm in one piece," _he reassured her.

She wanted to see for herself, though; now more than anything.

"_How are _you_ feeling," _he asked, tapping more firmly to emphasize the 'you.'

"I'm alright," she admitted as she swayed slightly. In retrospect, it was probably unwise of her to move so quickly. At least, she was thankful, the pain medication seemed to be working…

He released her hand and placed it on her shoulder, encouraging her to lie back down. When she made a move to, he moved his arm to her back and helped guide her down and back to her pillow. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, taking a moment to silently thank whatever entity there was that Roy was still with her.

Everything that had happened seemed more like a nightmare than reality. They had all been so close to death; the idea was almost impossible to grasp. She knew that she should not think about it because she –no, they- should focus on healing now.

Still, the thought hung in her mind as the fog from the last bits of anesthesia thinned out and dissipated.

They almost _died_. Almost fallen victim to those horrible, demented men; who wanted nothing more than revenge and to see their endless suffering.

It had been so terrifying, the notion now becoming more of a reality and less like the nightmare she hoped it would be.

They almost died.

Riza furrowed her brow, feeling the day's events make themselves known in the form of tears, forming just beneath her eyelids.

They almost died…

She felt a hand on her face as Roy's thumb brushed the tear that had escaped off of her cheek.

But at least, she thought as she opened her eyes, he was still here, continuing to shine as brightly as ever and help guide her through the darkness.

She caught a familiar pair of obsidian eyes staring back in worry. Blinking a few times to be sure of what she saw, she indeed confirmed what she was seeing wasn't a dream or a nightmare, but reality.

Noticing she was looking into his eyes, his expression immediately softened and he smiled warmly. For a moment she did nothing, taking in the sight. The sling, his expression… Him.

Feeling overwhelmed now with euphoria, she shifted again and made a move to sit up, but his hand swiftly found her shoulder, the action silently asking her to reconsider. Respecting his wishes, she relaxed and laid back on her pillow, keeping her eyes fixed on his the entire time.

Smiling again, he affectionately murmured, "I see you," as his hand rested against her cheek once more, prompting her to reach up and loosely wrap hers around his wrist.

Those words again. Those three, simple words, conveying to her once again the feelings they long knew and held onto for dear life.

Those three little words, pushing the darkness away.

It would always be there, this darkness; looming in the deepest corners of her mind, letting itself be known through nightmares, pain, and sorrow. This journey she was about to embark on would be riddled with obstacles, roadblocks, and difficulties that would test her very limits. But come what may, one thing was certain:

Her beacon was there, and she knew that he always would be.

Releasing her hold on his wrist, she reached up and rested her palm against his cheek and softly said, "And I see you."

* * *

**A/N: **_And that's it. The story is officially over. I have to admit, it's bittersweet. I've been working on it since July (had started plotting in May of last year), and now it's done. I guess I'm not too heartbroken, since in a way I'm keeping this little AU alive with _Flame and Steel_, which I published a few minutes after posting this (again, containing a lot of Royai and Riza in general, but I have plans to include Parental!RoyEd, EdWin, and family bits)._

_Right now my plans are to work on _Flame and Steel_, _Humanity _(which I have considered doing something similar to _FAS_ due to the ending I've plotted out, but the jury's still out on that one), and an untitled prompt from __**Stardiouses**__. I also have plans to polish both this story and _Humanity _over the course of the summer (just fixing author's notes, grammar, etc. with no plot changes so that they can be prettier :3)Other than that, I'm not too sure where writing will take me. Like I said before, I'm accepting prompts and story ideas if anyone has them._

_Finally, I want to thank each and every person that stuck through this with me, and everyone that has reviewed, favorited, and followed my first Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction. I had an absolute blast! I really couldn't have done it without you, especially your words of encouragement._

_So thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you are moving on to _Humanity _or _Flame and Steel_, I will see you there. But if this is the end of the road, I want to thank you for your time and hope that you enjoyed it! Cheers!_

_-TFaHE_


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